


A Fighter by his Trade

by Imogen_Penn



Series: Hearts and Bones [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Darcy Lewis, Boxing & Fisticuffs, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Get Together, Parkour, Sexy Times, Slow Build, Women Being Awesome, also
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-15 15:00:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imogen_Penn/pseuds/Imogen_Penn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody’s got a past, something they’re running from. It might take a while to figure it out, but the real question is where you’re running <i>to</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In the clearing stands a boxer, a fighter by his trade  
> and he carries the reminder of every glove that laid him down or cut him  
> till he cried out in his anger and his shame  
> I am leaving I am leaving  
> but the fighter still remains
> 
> \- Paul Simon, The Boxer

Darcy walked through the door of the old gym on the lower west side with trepidation. Her dad had told her this was the place to go, but the whole place looked a little run down; smelled like it too, that musty layer of old leather and years of sweat in the ring hanging in the air.

  
The gym was almost deserted. There was an enormously tall blonde at the speed bag in the corner and a man who must have been in his 70s, but still looked street tough, lifting free weights by a mirror spotted with age. The atmosphere was quiet; there was a level of focus hanging around the place that you didn’t often find in the shiny, high-end fitness clubs that were everywhere these days.  
She supposed, when she thought about it, that it did remind her a bit of the gym that her father and brother had trained in back home.

  
And just like that gym, it didn’t take more than thirty seconds before she was noticed. A small, wiry, grey haired man stuck his head out of the office, a bushy eyebrow raised high.

  
“You lost ma’am?” the harsh Brooklyn accent cut across the room. Neither of the other two men in the room so much as looked up.

  
“Not unless the sign out front is lying to me,” she said wryly, used to people thinking she didn’t belong in places like this. “You Sal?”

  
“Who’s asking?” the older man looked intrigued now, coming to lean against the doorframe.

  
“Darcy Lewis,” she approached and held out a hand, “My pop sent me.”

  
He looked at her a moment longer, then realisation dawned. “Well I’ll be God damned,” he said pumping her arm like it was his job, “Major Lewis’ little girl all grown up!”

  
“Yes sir,” she said with a grin. She liked to see the enthusiasm that her father’s name conjured up in his friends. “He told me this was the only place to go in New York.”

  
“Damned right,” he said cheerfully. “You looking to train?”

  
“Pop’d kill me if I ever fell off the wagon,” she said with a smirk, “Thought I’d at least stay fighting trim. Not looking to compete or anything. I just can’t stand all that girly boxercise shit.”

  
Sal laughed, “That’s about right, family like yours.” He sobered for a moment, “I was real sorry to hear about Jim.” He said solemnly.

  
“Thanks,” she said quietly, “It was a real blow to the family,” she took a breath and managed a smile, “but we’re real proud of him. Not the first hero in the Lewis family, but certainly one of the best.”

  
“Always was a mean fighter in the ring and the nicest guy in the gym outside of it.” Said Sal fondly, “I bet you’re not so bad yourself.” He shot an elbow at her, clearly changing the subject.

  
She brought her arms up to guard against the blow with a grin, “Not so bad,” she agreed. “Always room for improvement though.”

  
“Well put your kit on girl; let’s see what you got and then we’ll start you on a program.”

  
It was a relief, pulling on her head guard, sticking in her mouthpiece, and lacing up her gloves. There was comfort in this. Outside of the ring, she might be awkward and flighty and a bit off centre, but here between the ropes she was balanced and focused and sure of herself. 

  
She dropped her sweats leaving her in lycra shorts before shoving on her other glove. She heard the rhythm of the blonde on the speed bag stutter and rolled her eyes. There was one in every gym. He’d figure out pretty quick that she was far more likely to knock him to the mats than make eyes at him.

  
+

  
+

  
Steve didn’t look up when the door of the gym jingled. He came here to be alone, to pound out his frustration into sand bags and occasionally a sparring partner.

  
The Avengers made it better, being part of a team helped. But there were some things that he just had to work through on his own.

  
His eyebrow may have gone up as he heard a light female voice respond to Sal’s questioning. But Sal seemed to know the girl, and the conversation quickly faded into the background as his focus centred back on his rhythm.

  
As Sal stepped into the ring with her, he could see them out of the corner of his eye. Her back was to him, but he could see that she was petite. Short and curvy, not the kind of girl he’d expected to see in this gym. Although to be fair, he never really expected to see any kind of girl in this gym.

 

Sometimes when he was at Sal’s he could forget the year and imagine himself back in his own time. It was a boy’s club, free of pop music and elliptical machines and women who were more interested in how they looked than working up a sweat. He liked it that way. The spandex crowd made him uncomfortable.

  
However, he mused to himself as the girl pulled her loose pants off, leaning over and giving him an eyeful of toned, spandex clad ass that made his mouth go dry, sometimes uncomfortable was okay. He narrowly avoided getting struck in the head by the speed bag as his rhythm faltered.

  
“Get a grip Rogers,” he muttered to himself. It had been a while now, since that last day in his own time. The last time he had had his hands on a woman.

  
He was adjusting; he was finding a place for himself. But he found himself thinking about Peggy more and more often. About her lips against his and her voice over the com being the last thing he heard before the cold and the ice. Other things were starting to fade, but the memory of her was electric.

  
It wasn’t helping with the whole frustration thing.

  
He gave up on the speed bag and began slamming his fists into a sand bag. 

  
Unfortunately, moving to the hanging bag meant that the new girl and Sal were directly in his line of sight. He couldn’t help watching. She had good form, well balanced and quick. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for Sal to see it and stop pulling his punches.

  
He stopped and stilled the bag under his hands as she threw a strong right cross that knocked Sal to the rails. Gus had set down his weights and strolled over to watch the show, leaning against the ring. Steve couldn’t blame him. It was quite something to see this girl, her brown curls escaping behind her head guard, harrying Sal into a corner.

  
Finally with a lightning fast combo, Sal was on the mat and the girl was dancing around with her gloves in the air for a moment before helping Sal to his feet.

  
“Damn girl!” Gus shouted to her as she stripped off her gloves and guard and spat out her mouth guard. “I ain’t seen a new kid take Sal to the mat that quick in years.”

  
“She’s hardly a new kid, Gus.” Sal grumbled good naturedly, “comes from one of the finest boxing pedigrees in the U.S. military.”

  
Steve’s eyebrows shot up into his head. He would eat his hat if that girl was military.

  
“Rogers,” Sal hollered at him, “get your ass over here and be sociable.”

  
He was so used to following orders from Sal that he was halfway across the gym before he noticed it.

 

Oh well, it was the polite thing to do anyways.

  
“Darcy Lewis,” Sal tugged her over to the wires where he stood next to Gus, “this is Gus Flexman and Steve Rogers, two of the most regular regulars around here.”

  
“Miss Lewis,” Steve nodded politely at her. He wondered somewhat sourly, if this was the first step in the deterioration of this gym. Next thing Sal would put in new mirrors that actually reflected things accurately, get mats that didn’t smell like 1945 and everyone would be in spandex. 

  
Darcy raised an eyebrow at him, “Mister Rogers,” he could have _sworn_ she was mocking him by the curve of her lip. 

  
“Anyone who can knock down Sal is okay in my books,” Gus shook her hand heartily, “Welcome to the gym, Lewis.”

  
“Pleasure’s all mine Gus,” said Darcy with an easy smile. And now Steve _knew_ she had been teasing him. 

  
Well excuse him for having manners around a lady. He felt oddly put out by the whole thing.

 

+

 

+

  
The blonde on the speed bag, well … Steve, she supposed, was glaring at her. She didn’t think he was aware of the way his face showed exactly what he was thinking. She could practically hear him railing at Sal to get this spandex clad hussy out of his testosterone zone.

  
She didn’t begrudge him the sentiment, especially because despite his obvious discomfort (probably stemming from his not-as-subtle-as-he-thought glances at her legs) he was polite, even overly so, and he wasn’t staring at her tits. He’d figure out she was here to train just like the rest of them soon enough.

  
“Rogers,” Sal said, “you’ve got the best form around here, take Lewis through a standard circuit?”

Sal, on the other hand, looked like he was running an angle. She sent a sharp look his way, and he gazed back at her guilelessly. 

  
“Just the tallest Sal,” Steve answered easily, as if it were a rote response, “How could you possibly see my form from way down there.”

  
Darcy laughed, half in surprise. He was funny. Yeah, tall blonde and angry would get over his fear of girls in the gym pretty quick, if she had anything to do with it. He seemed like the kind of guy it would be worth having as a friend. And as a small town girl brand new to the big city, Darcy could use all the friends she could get.

  
“Stop mouthing off and do as you’re told, Rogers,” Sal flipped back at him.

  
Steve saluted him with a grin that quickly fell off his face as he turned to Darcy, watching her slip under the wires and onto the floor. “You up for it now Miss Lewis?” he said politely.

  
Well, no time like the present, “What was that? Sorry didn’t hear you from all the way down here Rogers.”

  
Steve rolled his eyes at her, but there was a hint of a grin there, so she counted it as progress.

 

+

 

+

  
He had to admit, as he took her around the gym, setting a series of basic exercises and showing her the equipment, that the girl was good. She was clearly here to box. He appreciated the way she never stopped to fix her hair and just wiped at her forehead absently when she started sweating.  
He was studiously avoiding appreciating the way her body moved under her shorts and t-shirt. 

  
“Good, but you’re dropping your shoulder a bit on your cross, try it again,” he said as they stood in front of a punching bag.

  
She did it again, and her shoulder still dropped visibly. 

  
“Think about keeping yourself level,” he suggested, “maybe a wider stance would help, because you’re really dipping on the right.”

  
She adjusted herself a bit, and tried again, and her shoulder dropped again.

  
“Maybe if you watch me?” he suggested, he wasn’t good at this, he could shout orders and he could obey them, but coaching? He had a hard time believing that anyone wanted his advice.

  
“Dammit Rogers stop being a pansy and just show me if I’m not getting it,” she huffed at him in frustration.

  
That little twinge of annoyance that had been hovering around him ever since she came in, threatening the dynamic of his favorite place in New York, snapped.

  
“Fine Lewis, I will,” he said tersely, roughly pressing a hand to her thigh to force her stance wider, pressing her into a lower crouch with his hands on her hips, and planting a hand right under her right armpit, “now punch.”

  
Her strike was clean and balanced without a hint of a wobble. Steve felt a momentary rush of success until he saw her wide, teasing grin. Realising that his fingers were still wrapped around her ribs in a way that wasn’t entirely appropriate, he immediately took a step back.

  
“You did that on purpose,” he said accusingly.

  
“Well you were acting more skittish around me than a maiden aunt, so I had to do something,” she quipped back.

  
Steve had to admit, she had a point.

  
“Sorry,” he ran a hand through his hair sheepishly, his annoyance falling away in the face of her comfortable grin. “I’m not exactly good at talking to girls.”

  
“I’m not a girl,” she responded firmly, “I’m some dude who works out at your gym.”

  
Steve raised an eyebrow at her. There was no way anyone could mistake her for anything other than a woman.

  
“Okay, so not actually a dude,” she conceded, “But I’m here to box, just like you, not to look pretty on a treadmill or cause problems in the gym, got it?”

  
Being the focus of her stare was a little bit frightening, but Steve understood exactly what she was saying with a sense of relief.

  
“Your uppercuts are sloppy and lack power Lewis,” he said finally, “you need to be doing more squats.”

  
“Are you saying my ass needs work, Rogers?”

  
Her tone was challenging, but she was clearly teasing him, and he wasn’t used to being teased by girls. The only girls he really knew were Natasha, Maria Hill, and Jane Foster. Women, he mentally amended, as he wouldn’t put it past Tasha to be able to read minds. And none of them were the teasing type. 

  
Still, he was starting to get the feeling that Darcy Lewis was going to be around here a lot, and he was finding that maybe he wasn’t going to mind it so much, so he screwed up his courage and tried to think what Tony would say.

  
“Your ass looks fine to me, Lewis.” He didn’t think he pulled it off quite right, and he was sure he was blushing up to his ears, but she laughed out loud, a bright and rich laugh right from the gut, swatted him on the arm and pulled him along to the next station.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

It took a few days, but Darcy found herself a real comfort zone in Sal’s gym. The guys found out that she wasn’t precious about her training and could take a punch just like the rest of them. She found that there was a real community in the little gym. Everyone helped each other out, from the young kids just starting, to the fighters who competed in the ring, to the older guys who mostly were here to remember the past.

Walking in on a Wednesday morning felt _comfortable_. All the faces were familiar and there was a lot to be said for a place where everybody knows your name, even if it was a bit of a cliché.

“Darcy!” a voice called out to her from near the change room. She grinned.

And Steve. Steve was a real comfort zone too. He was the only one in the gym who was around her age, and he was there probably more often than she was, which was really saying something. After his initial reluctance, he’d settled down and seemed to really enjoy working with her. To be fair, he wasn’t really working with anyone else, as he refused to coach any of the gym’s real fighters and always sought advice from the older men, rather than giving it.

It was a real shame, in Darcy’s opinion, because he was a great teacher. He was patient and observant and could spot things in her form before she ever noticed it.

“Hey Steve,” she greeted him as he jogged up. “How’s it going?”

“Just about to get into the ring with Max,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder at one of the gym’s top fighters. “You up for some sparring later?”

“My body can take it Steve, it’s the ego that’s the issue,” she said with a grin.

Steve was blushing. After  two weeks seeing him nearly every day, she knew _exactly_ why and couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re looking for the joke in there about taking my body, aren’t you Steve?”

“What! No! I wouldn’t…” he paused, rubbing the back of his neck, “well I wouldn’t have said it _out loud_.” He finished sheepishly.

Darcy rolled her eyes, “get into the ring, you boy scout,” she gave him a little push and set herself up behind a speed bag with a good view.

It was an education just watching him work. That man was almost inhuman in his abilities. She had asked him once why he didn’t fight professionally, but his eyes had sort of clouded over and he had changed the subject, so she didn’t ask again. She’d seen the look before. It didn’t take a genius to know that Steve was ex-military. The olive green duffle bag was a dead give-away, even without what she knew about men with that straight-backed posture and distance in their eyes.

Mostly, he was really easy going around her though. She got the feeling that he didn’t have too many friends. He never really talked about people from work or about doing anything over the weekend. From Darcy’s perspective, that was a crime. He was funny and kind, and he still blushed to the tips of his ears every time he tried to make an off color joke.

And, let’s not pretend here, the man was pretty easy on the eyes.

Darcy just could not figure him out, sometimes. A guy that gorgeous ought to be a lady killer with the kind of confidence that comes from never having had to work to get a woman. Not that Darcy was volunteering to help him realize that. No faster way to ruin a gym than with sex. Plus, she liked that Steve was still unable to let her finish a dirty joke without interjecting a comment about respect. It was just rare, in her experience.

He certainly wasn’t the sort of guy she typically spent time with. But while Darcy had been a bit reckless as a teenager, and had done her fair share of running with the wrong crowd, she was finding that respectful and polite didn’t necessarily mean _boring._

Maybe she was maturing. She’d have to tell Jane.

+

+

Usually, he saw Darcy mid-morning at the gym. He looked forward to it. She treated him like any other guy, teasing and joking and _comfortable_ with him in a way that just made everything easier. It did twist his conscience, every now and again, that as far as she knew, he _was_ just like any other guy. But secrets were sometimes necessary, and it meant his time, at the gym and with her, was safe and sacred.

That sense of safety and comfort she carried with her was part of the reason why he had a deeply unsettled feeling when she didn’t show up one Monday. He told himself that it was nothing to worry about. Everyone needs a day off. But he was anxious. He carried on with his day, only half aware as he ran errands and sat through a weekly meeting at SHIELD.

He was still feeling tense when 7:00 rolled around, so he went back to the gym. Just to work off some energy, he told himself, not to see if she was there. He could admit, after he looked up from the bag to see her walk through the door, that he was lying to himself. He was here to see her. It felt like he could finally let out his breath as she called to him across the gym.

“Steve,” she called out as she dropped her bag on a bench, “You really need to get a life.”

He grinned and walked over, his hands taped and his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, “But then who would be here to keep you in line?” he said, as he began to unwrap his hands, “Where’ve you been? You’re not usually this late.” He tried to keep the concern out of his voice. She didn’t know, nor did she need to, how important the normalcy and routine she brought to his life was. Lord knows he wasn’t finding it anywhere else.

She rolled her eyes, “No need for the third degree Steve, I just finally started my actual _job_ today. Not all of us can spend our whole days in the gym.”

“Oh hey! That’s great!” he said in genuine excitement, completely ignoring her teasing dig at his lack of a social life. He really enjoyed the way she always seemed kind of frustrated when he didn’t react. It was probably fairly unkind of him to think so, but one of the great things about Darcy was that he knew she wouldn’t care, and would probably laugh. “Where are you working?”

“Well, in a lab actually.” She started to explain as she pulled off her sweatpants and dug out her equipment, “I did a summer internship a few years ago with this astrophysicist. Like, the really young crazy smart change the world kind of scientist. I was around when some…stuff went down, and I know her work and her equipment pretty well, so when she decided to come work in New York and was told she could hire any assistant she wanted, she called me up.”

He paused for a moment, the way she spoke about “stuff going down” concerned him for a moment. But then he shook it off. This was the real world, which was filled with _normal_ people. Stuff going down didn’t mean the same thing as it did when Natasha or, god forbid, Tony said it.

“Science hey,” he raised an amused eyebrow at her, “Never would have pegged you for the type.”

“Well, to be fair, what I do mostly isn’t science. It’s computer stuff and fixing mechanical things and ordering my boss around to make sure she eats and sleeps.”

“Ah,” said Steve, grinning, “That makes a lot more sense. You are really bossy.”

She punched him lightly in the arm. “All right hot shot, let’s see if you can put your money where your mouth is.”

He always pulled his punches when he was sparing. There were one or two fighters in the gym who were lightning fast and could give him a real workout, but even then they couldn’t compete with him for strength.

Sparring with Darcy, though, was an exercise in control of the highest order, both physical and mental. She was tough, there was no doubt about that. She could take a punch and it was by no means a pleasant experience to take her fist to the face. And boy did she like to shit talk in the ring.

But she was tiny, really, at least compared to him. She didn’t have the reach to get around him, didn’t have the strength to take him head on. So he pulled his punches and took it a bit slow and tried to concentrate on helping her improve rather than defending himself.

Which is how he got the first uppercut straight to the jaw that he could remember in years.

She hadn’t even been mildly apologetic about it, dancing around the ring in mock triumph as he stretched his jaw and winced. Sometimes he wished he was just a little less _super_ or maybe that he could let go just a bit of his firmly ingrained belief that even in the ring, you just don’t ever really try to hit a girl.

 Mostly because he knew she could see him holding back. Darcy gave everything her absolute all. He wished he could do the same.

He shook the thought away as they stepped into the ring. That would mean Darcy figuring out that he wasn’t exactly normal, and then he wouldn’t be Steve, or Steve-O, or even “hey looser” with that silly grin of hers. He’d be the Captain. And this was the one place in New York that Captain American wasn’t welcome.

+

+

It was dark by the time they finished up that night, and it was only Sal left in the gym as they packed up their gear and pulled on their jackets.

“See ya Sal,” called Darcy from near the door, and “Night Steve!”

“Hold up!” hollered Sal from the office. “Now lord knows you can take care of yourself Lewis, but your father would have my neck if he knew I let you out of here alone after dark.”

Darcy rolled her eyes and made to object, but Sal was too fast.

“Steven,” he ordered, “Make yourself and your freakish size useful, walk the lady home.”

 In that precise moment, the look on Sal’s face reminded her eerily of her father. She had to grin.

“If it’ll make you feel better Sal, I’ll make sure Steve gets home safe.”

Steve grinned at her, and took her jauntily proffered elbow easily enough, even if his height made it a bit awkward.

“Aw, get outta here you nutballs.” Sal called fondly after them as they left.

Steve dropped her arm the moment they were around the corner, and she was about to accuse him of being skittish, but instead she found he had slipped her bag off her shoulder and onto his.

“Now hold on a minute Steven,” she said in her best no nonsense tone. “I don’t actually need you to walk me home and I _certainly_ don’t need you to carry my bag.” She stopped walking, her arms crossed and a firm expression on her face.

“I know,” said Steve, looking at her evenly. “I’m not doing it because you can’t. I’m walking you home because while _I_ know you can hold your own, anyone looking at you on the street wouldn’t, and far better not to get into a fight you didn’t plan to be in, right?”

She huffed, irrationally irritated. It had been a long day, full of paperwork and workplace safety lectures followed by a _lot_ of science related craziness from Jane. “I’ll give you the whole ‘I look like a target’ issue Steve, but how is the world going to move forward if I use you as a shield every time I walk home.”

“Let someone else be the test case,” he said firmly. “Besides, two against one is always better odds.”

He was unflappable. It was really pissing her off.

“Well how do you explain the bag thing then? How is that not just misogyny parading around cloaked in chivalry?” She felt like her undergrad women’s studies prof would be proud.

And, to her immense satisfaction, Steve did look a little bit chastised. “You know, I’ve never thought of it in quite that way before,” he said. “And by all means, take it back. It’s just that…well.”

He paused.

“Spit it out Steve,” but her tone wasn’t unkind.

“Well, I’m stronger than you, and this thing is heavy. I watched you work your guts out in the gym, and I thought, hey, she’s worked hard enough today, and it’s easier for me to carry that brick, so why not help out?”

She would argue about the strength thing, but it was so patently true that it wasn’t worth it. And she felt like taking the bag back now would be throwing his friendly and well meant gesture back in his face.

And it was Steve. Somehow, the old fashioned manners just fit so well into who he was, and Darcy liked who he was just fine. So she sighed and waved her hand in a _carry on_ sort of gesture.

Steve grinned at her and kept walking. A moment or two passed in silence as they walked, before Steve asked her “where are we headed?”

“Not far, actually. Just three blocks more and then one block to the left.”

“You’re kidding,” Steve exclaimed.

“Uh, no?” she looked up at him quizzically, “Why would I be?”

“I’m pretty sure I live just one block over from you.”

“Huh,” she said, “Neat. We’re neighbours.”

“I’m glad,” he said, “Don’t really know too many of my neighbours. Definitely don’t like any of them as much as you.”

It should have been flirtatious, should have had her putting up her guard. But it was so genuinely Steve that she couldn’t help but laugh.

“There are people Steve Rogers doesn’t like?” she asked in mock astonishment.

“Don’t tell anyone” he said with a grin. And then he took a run, planted one hand on a stone wall running along the street, and flung himself up onto it, two bags and all, in one smooth leap. She laughed, because he looked like nothing more than an overgrown ten year old, walking with his arms out for balance down the wall.

“Show off,” she said, elbowing him as he swung down and fell in step beside her. “But I’m calling dibs on you for the zombie apocalypse. You’re on my team.”

“The what?” Steve looked genuinely confused.

“Zombie apocalypse? You are clearly really good at parkour. It’s generally acknowledged to be a really valuable skill in the post zombie world.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, “I’ll be on your team _and_ teach you some, uh, parkour, if you educate me about this whole zombie apocalypse thing.”

“Seriously, you’re going to teach me about jumping over things _and_ you’re going to let me immerse you in zombie media?”

Steve nodded seriously, although his face was an odd combination of amused and apprehensive.

“Deal,” she said with enthusiasm. “If you walk me to my door,” she continued as they approached her building, “I’ll lend you your first DVD.”

“Uh…” Steve stumbled, neck flushing, “I don’t actually have a DVD player.”

“Oh man,” said Darcy, “We are really going to have to start from the beginning.”


	3. Chapter 3

It was just one of those days where she woke up on the right side of the bed, hopping up without too much of a struggle a few minutes before her alarm went off, ready to greet the day.

She’d been having a lot of those recently, for some reason. She was going to chalk at least part of it up to getting back into the gym. If felt great to be exercising regularly again, plus it was hard to hold on to a lot of anxiety or frustration when you were spending a few hours hitting things really hard every day.

She was also finding the transition to big city living far easier than she would have thought. She didn’t even mind the subway trip into work every day, because working with Jane was actually _fun_. The physics and astronomy electives she had added to her schedule as she finished up her degree meant she understood a lot more and Jane, no longer quite so frantic now that she had living proof that her theory was correct, was more interested in bringing her up to speed.

Secretly, Darcy thought that part of Jane’s patience and good humor had a lot more to do with the fact that tall, blond, and godly was now making regular visits, but she wasn’t going to say anything because she was finding, to her surprise, that she actually _liked_ learning how to describe the universe through math.

It didn’t hurt that she got to work at SHIELD every day either. The level of new and shiny around the R&D department there was spectacular, particularly in contrast to the car dealership in New Mexico.

Plus, every once in a while an honest to god super hero would stop by to say hi.

This morning, for example, Clint “Hawkeye” Barton walked in with lattes.

While she still got a little thrill every time she was in the same room as an Avenger, she had learned very quickly that Clint was a bit of shit and it was better not to give him an inch. A charming and likable shit, but a shit nonetheless.

“What did you do this time, Barton,” she said with a grin as she walked over to grab a coffee.

“I’m hurt Lewis,” he drawled, setting the other coffee down on the counter, knowing by the stiff set of Jane’s shoulders at her bench that she was glued to a problem and wouldn’t come up for air until it was solved, “maybe I just wanted to come see you?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Or maybe I’m stalling because I’ve been called in for a debrief with the weapons tech guys.” He grinned unrepentantly.

Darcy sighed dramatically, “So I’m just a cheap distraction? You’re just using me?”

He waggled his eyebrows at her, “Aw, don’t be like that babe. At least I bought you coffee.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re just lucky I like you.” She said, talking a long sip of the coffee, done up just the way she liked it. She would give the super hero set one thing: they really had an eye for details.

Although, that wasn’t always a good thing.  She watched Clint make a beeline for her bag sitting open on a spare bit of lab bench.

“What’s this Lewis,” he asked, pulling a boxing glove out of her bag, “costume party?”

“Nope,” she said, turning back to her computer without any follow up.

“You know,” she jumped, probably to Clint’s extreme satisfaction, as he snuck up behind her, “you don’t actually need gloves for boxercise classes.”

She jumped off the stool with a huff. “I’ll show _you_ boxercise,” she snarked as she threw a right cross at him. He blocked it easily, and really she would have been kind of worried if he hadn’t, but he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“You actually know what you’re doing,” he sounded incredulous.

Darcy crossed her arms and glared. “Don’t sound so surprised,” she said.

“Just impressed,” he quipped back, “and a little bit turned on,” he mock leered at her, “that’s what I call foxy boxing.”

She laughed in spite of herself and gave him a shove. “Get to your meeting Barton, and for future reference, I’d prefer to have my lattes delivered by Captain America.”

He mimed behind struck in the heart and stumbled backwards towards the door. “I’m wounded Lewis. But sadly, you’re stuck with those of us who actually work for SHIELD. The Captain is a consultant, so unless you manage to blow up the lab so badly that the world needs saving, you’re out of luck.”

He gave her a cheeky salute as he headed out.

“Then send Natasha next time!” Darcy hollered after him. She thought she heard him laughing down the hall.

When she turned back, Jane was looking at her with crossed arms and a determined expression.

“Oh! Sorry Jane, we were loud. I blame Clint.” She tried to look suitably apologetic.

“You’re awfully chipper today” Jane said. It sounded like an accusation.

“…I suppose….” She agreed cautiously.

“Are you having sex?” Jane managed to sound both disapproving and enthusiastic at the same time. It was a real skill.

“What? No! Can’t I just be happy?” Darcy responded quickly.

“You’re sure you’re not having sex?” Jane raised an eyebrow, “Maybe with Clint?”

Darcy had to laugh, “Yes Jane I am _pretty_ sure about this year long dry spell I’m in the middle of. No I am _not_ having sex with Clint a) because he’s kind of a turd, b) because I never see him outside of the lab, and c) because I prefer not to get choked out by the black widow’s thighs.”

“Why would Natasha…oh!” Jane exclaimed, comprehension dawning, “Clint and Natasha are….”

Darcy rolled her eyes, “Jane, you are really really smart, but sometimes you can be kinda dumb.”

Jane shoved her with a grin. “Alright smarty pants, fine. You are all knowing.” She looked at her mischievously, “but I’m the one having sex regularly.”

“Thanks for not rubbing it in,” said Darcy in mock annoyance.

“But seriously,” Jane was like a dog with a bone sometimes, “none of the guys you box with? I mean, some of them at least have to be nice to look at.”

Unbidden, Darcy immediately thought of Steve. That was odd. True, yes. But odd. She was usually pretty good at sticking guys at the gym into the purely platonic box.

“Sure,” she said easily, “But they’re, like, my bros, you know? You don’t date your gym bros.”

Jane looked unconvinced.

“I am making friends though!” she tried to deflect the conversation, “Real friends who are not abrasive super heroes or alien gods. One of ‘em is going to teach me parkour this weekend.”

“But…” Jane started.

“No,” said Darcy firmly, “This is a no-matchmaking zone,” she drew a square around herself in the air.

“Fine,” said Jane in mock exasperation, “now can we get back to work?” as if _Darcy_ had been the one to start the interruption.

Darcy stifled a laugh, “Yep, I’m on it boss.”

Truthfully, though, she was happy to end the conversation. She really didn’t want to talk, not even to Jane, about her love life, or distinct lack of one.

More importantly, it was a distinct lack of a desire for a love life.

She’d dated a lot in college, if that’s what you wanted to call it, even made it a few semesters with one guy. But watching her mother’s face when they had found out her brother wasn’t coming home from overseas, seeing his fiancé at his funeral… No thank you.

Falling in love just meant you had one more thing to lose.

+

+

That Saturday, Steve found himself in Central park, dressed for a workout, waiting for a girl.

It felt a little odd. He had never actually seen Darcy outside of the gym before. He liked the idea of it, liked the idea of having a friend who was _normal;_ of _being_ a normal friend to somebody. Well, not that Darcy was all that normal as far as he could tell, but she was interesting, and he wasn’t particularly normal himself. He had no barometer for this, though. He had never really had a female friend, not one that he had no intention of making a move on.

At least, he thought with a grin, he knew that Darcy would have a pretty effective left hook on her side if he tried anything.

When she showed up, smiling and bouncy and the absolute opposite of awkward, he immediately forgot about being unsure. She was dressed exactly as she would be for the gym and walked up to him without any of the pleasantries or formalities of real life and said, “Alright Steve, let’s do this,” with a determined grin.

He had her tape up her hands as they headed to find a nice low wall to start on.

“Let’s start simple, yeah?” he said, “Let’s see you get over that wall.”

She gave him a little salute and took a bit of a run up. She planted both hands on the wall, scrambled to swing her legs up over the top, and hopped off the other side. By now, a few weeks of watching her in the gym had made him familiar with the way her body moved and what she could do. He found it was pretty easy to translate it to teaching her this.

Although he had had to get Clint to explain to him what parkour was, he figured it was just a fancy name for moving quickly through enclosed terrain. He was pretty practiced at that, although he’d never really thought of it as _fun_ before.

“Good,” he said as she came jogging back.

She laughed, “I looked like a hobbled chicken going over that thing Steve and we both know it. Fix me!”

Steve had to grin, “Okay, maybe it was a little bit chicken like,” he agreed. “But you’ve clearly got the strength for non-chicken like movement, so that’s good.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow, “let’s stop with the calling me a chicken and move on to the learning.”

“Right,” said Steve with a laugh, “Well the basic principle is not just to get over the wall, but to keep your momentum going. So there’s a bunch of ways you can take a wall that let you do that. Probably the easiest is to swing over it.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what you mean by that,” said Darcy.

“Well it’s like…” he tried to think of how to describe it, but he was far better with _doing_ than _saying_.

“Here,” he said, “I’ll show you.”

He ran at the wall, planted his left hand, and then swung his legs out to the right, throwing them over the wall and then landing into a few running steps.

Darcy looked at him with wide eyes as he jogged back. “That’s the _easy_ way?”

He grinned, “Looks way harder than it is,” he said, “It’s all about momentum. Come on,” he tugged at her elbow and pulled her up to the wall.

“Plant your hand,” he said, “and see if you can push off the ground.”

He was absurdly proud of her as she gave a little hop and was able to support herself on one hand.

“Now see if you can pull your body to the side a bit.”

She let out a little grunt of effort, but her body slowly started to angle away from her hand.

“Yeah,” said Steve, “That’s it. Now actually running at the wall makes it _way_ easier because your momentum does most of the work. Here, I’ll toss your legs over so you can feel the landing.”

With one hand on her waist and one just above her knees, he hoisted her up and over the wall in the closest approximation to the way her momentum would carry her. She let out a little squeak of surprise and stumbled as she landed, but was able to keep to her feet.

“Jesus Steve,” she said breathlessly, “A little more warning next time?”

He grinned at her petulant expression. “Aw come on, you can handle it. Give it a go.”

She looked apprehensive as they jogged away from the wall.

“I don’t know,” she said warily.

“I do,” he said firmly, “there’s nothing to it, you just have to let yourself go, stop thinking so hard.”

“Seriously, ‘stop thinking so hard’, that’s your advice?”

“Yep,” he said cheerfully, “a case of beer says you make it on your first try.”

“So all I have to do for free beer is mess it up?” she raised an eyebrow at him.

“But you won’t,” he said, completely sure that he was right, “you’re not the type to give it less than your best.”

He was gratified to see her smile at that, and then she turned her determined gaze to the wall.

“Alright,” she said, “Here goes nothing.”

She took a run at the wall, planted her hand, and without hesitation flung her legs over the wall. He whooped in excitement as she pushed off with such force that she hung in the air for a moment, her body making a graceful curve before her feet hit the ground. She didn’t quite stick the landing, stumbling forward onto her knees. He was worried for a minute as he ran up to her, but he needn’t have been. Her face was flushed with excitement and her eyes were sparkling.

“That was _awesome_ ,” she exclaimed as he helped her up.

“Yeah you were,” he agreed with an easy grin. “Wanna go again?”

He worked with her for a few hours, until she could land into an easy run. He had her running up walls and sliding under low barriers until her legs were covered in dirt and grass stains and abrasions and her arms were shaking with the effort.

“Alright,” he said finally, feeling a bit tired himself, or at least hungry, “that’s enough for today. You’re going to be a mess at the gym tomorrow.”

“Ughh,” she said, breathing hard as she sat slouched on the ground, “Maybe I’ll take a day off. My arms feel like jelly,” she wobbled her arms and made a face at him.

“Naw,” said Steve grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her to her feet, “You’ll only seize up if you sit on your butt tomorrow.”

“Slave driver,” she said, but she was smiling.

“Wimp,” he quipped back easily. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had such simple and uncomplicated _fun_ as he had today. It was a good feeling, like a weight was lifting off his shoulders, even as he took most of Darcy’s weight with an arm around her waist. “Come on princess,” he said, “I owe you some beer and you owe me some zombies.”

She, quite predictably, whacked him in the chest for the princess comment, but she didn’t reject his help to the subway, so he thought that was probably okay.

+

+

Darcy made him wait outside as she entered her apartment. He grinned at the thought of her scrambling to stow away clutter and unmentionables. He really wouldn’t have cared. Although, now that he thought about it, the idea of Darcy’s unmentionables was…not unsettling exactly, but... He shoved the thought aside, immediately thankful that she had decided to tidy up.

“Alright,” she called to Steve, “It’s safe for you to enter.”

Steve entered cautiously and took a look around her apartment. “Nice place,” he said. It was small and on the old side, but the wood floors were in good repair, the fireplace might not work but the mantle looked nice, and it was furnished in an eclectic and homey style that spoke of tight budgets and good taste.

“Yeah, it does the job,” said Darcy, “You want to order something? There’s a few menus on the fridge.”

He made a non-committal noise and moved into the kitchen as Darcy started sifting through a stack of DVDs. He took a quick look through her fridge and a few cupboards and called back to her. “Why don’t I just make something?”

“Hey, if you want to put in all that effort, be my guest.” She called back.

It didn’t take him more than fifteen minutes to throw together a passable casserole and stick it in the oven. One thing that growing up during the depression had taught him was that almost anything could make a pretty good casserole.

“Dinner will be a bit,” he said, tossing Darcy an apple.

 “Better be worth the wait,“ she answered. “You ready for this?” she gestured to a daunting pile of DVDs and books in front of her.

“Hold on,” said Steve, returning to the kitchen to grab a couple of beers from the case he had purchased on the way there. “Okay,” he said opening the bottles and passing one to her, “Now I’m ready.”

While the beer didn’t affect him, there was something comforting about sitting down and having a beer with a friend anyways. And the way Darcy enthusiastically downed about a third of her’s in one pull somehow reminded him strongly of Bucky for a moment.

“So professor,” he settled back against the couch, “What’s up first?”

“Well,” said Darcy, quite seriously given the subject matter, “I figure since you’re clearly way behind on pop culture, I’d start with _Night of the Living Dead_.” She put on a spooky voice.

“It’s old?” he asked.

“Way old,” she pulled out a DVD and looked at the back of it. “1968 to be precise. But more importantly, it’s really the beginnings of the modern day zombie. There are some ‘zombie’ movies before this, but they’re more, like, Caribbean voodoo zombies. These dudes are the first of the undead brain eaters.”

Steve was surprised. A little bit wierded out by how 1968 was ‘way old’ to her, when it still kind of sounded like the future to him, but mostly surprised. “So, you actually know stuff about the history of zombies?”

She gave him a haughty look “You thought I was just going to show you a few movies? No no Steve, this is an _education._ ”

He grinned at her expression, “I can see that.” He watched her load up the movie. “So when did you become such an expert?” he asked.

“My brother,” she started and then paused, swallowing heavily. “He scared the bejesus out of me with this movie when I was a kid. And then he had to help me come up with a zombie survival plan so I could sleep at night. It was all downhill from there.”

“How old’s your brother,” he was interested to know about her family.  He remembered Sal saying they were military, but that’s about it.

“He died,” Darcy said shortly, “About a year and a half ago.”

An uncomfortable silence lingered as Steve tried to find the right words.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could come up with.

“It’s okay,” said Darcy mildly, but there was an undercurrent in her tone that told him it really wasn’t. “He saved a lot of lives. He was special forces. Got his whole team out of an ambush and stayed behind to blow up the bad guys. Big damn hero.”

She sounded both proud and bitter in a way he understood far too well for his own liking.

“It can be really tough,” he could hear the thickness in his voice and tried to swallow it down, “knowing a hero.”

He apparently wasn’t too successful in hiding the sadness that still hit him like a truck sometimes. A small hand closed around his forearm in a comforting squeeze.

“Who?” asked Darcy. And normally Steve really didn’t want to talk about it, or couldn’t. But this was _Darcy_ and she wasn’t going to pity him or pull punches and she got it, clearly and recently.

“My friend, Bucky. He died in the war,” it was convenient and horrible that there were enough wars in the recent past that Steve could be non-specific and let others draw their own conclusions. “And …Peggy…she just, she’s gone.”

He didn’t mean to bring up Peggy, but he was surprised to find the memory hurt a bit less than it used to.

“Were you married?” Darcy asks, her voice soft and sad.

“Might have been,” said Steve, looking up at Darcy and seeing understanding and compassion, but not the same awkwardness or pity that so many people felt. “Never got the chance.”

“War sucks,” said Darcy simply.

Her matter of fact tone drew a half smile to his lips.

“Yep,” he agreed, raising his bottle, “I’ll drink to that.”

Darcy quietly started the movie, and Steve found he was quite content to sit there with her in silence for a while. It was nice, he thought, to feel understood.

It didn’t take long, however, before the movie pulled him out of his silence.

“Oh come on,” he muttered at the screen.

“Something to share with the class Steve?” Darcy asked.

“Well, it’s just a dumb move,” he said in frustration, “why would you stay in one spot like that? What kind of strategy is that? _Keep quiet and hope they don’t tear the door down._ ”

The tactician in him was appalled.

Darcy laughed long and hard. “Oh Steve,” she said wiping at her eyes, “you’re hooked aren’t you? I can _see_ it. You are already halfway through a carefully thought out survival strategy.”

He didn’t see the point in denying it, especially when it made Darcy laugh like that.

“Well, yeah.” He said, “those things aren’t really a threat if you can keep on the move. I’d pull together a convoy, ideally with a tanker truck for refuelling or maybe just a bunch of off road trucks and jerry cans. Keep moving at night, stop for supplies at dawn, sleep till sunset.”

“Well that’s not exactly a sustainable long term plan,” said Darcy reasonably, “the gas supply is going to run out at some point, even if it’s years down the road.”

“Well,” said Steve considering, “I suppose it’s the same long term plan as any war.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow.

“Us or them,” he said simply with a wide grin, “I’m thinking flame throwers, maybe archers if we wanted to stay quiet, plus arrows are theoretically endless ammunition if you can make ’em. If we travel at night, they’ll follow the noise, basically line themselves up for the kill.”

Darcy looked impressed, and he was absurdly pleased, for all that it was a completely hypothetical plan.

“Oh yeah,” she said. “You’re on my team.”

“Maybe you’re on _my_ team, Lewis” he said with a challenging look.

 “Oh come on,” Darcy rolled her eyes, “I have all the zombie knowledge, besides, what do you even _do_ for a living. I have sciency astronomy knowledge. I’m pretty sure I could navigate by the stars.”

“I’m an A…” Steve was momentarily tempted to tell her exactly what he did, just to win a silly argument about who would be in charge in the zombie apocalypse. It was absurd. How did she draw him in like that? “Accountant.” He finished lamely.

“Seriously?” Darcy was incredulous. “How come you can be in the gym all day? And aren’t accountants supposed to be _boring._ ”

“Well I wasn’t always an accountant. I was in the military for a while,” he said defensively. “And I work on a consulting basis. I’m basically always on call for a couple of big clients. If there’s a disaster, I get called in.”

He was still kind of amused at how closely his cover story lined up with his actually job description.

“Oh,” said Darcy looking disappointed, “Well I guess that’s kind of cool.” She paused, “But I’m still the team leader in the zombie apocalypse.”

Steve smiled at her fondly, “I suppose I am pretty used to being bossed around by you by now.”

He grinned as she threw a pillow at him. “And you’re violent, which is probably a plus.”

“You’re such a jerk Steve,” she said, but she was laughing, so he just smiled back.


	4. Chapter 4

Friday’s were always busy at the gym, but Darcy found she kind of liked it that way. Lots of the pros came around to spar on Friday evenings, and she usually didn’t put in much of a workout before she ended up watching the fights with Steve, or watching Steve win the fights. Both were fun.

Tonight, though, Steve was sitting out. She knew by now that when it got too busy, he wouldn’t step into the ring. It raised too many questions about how he got so good and why he wouldn’t fight for real. These were still questions that Darcy had too, but they weren’t the sort of things you got answered in a busy gym. Those were the sort of answers you had to earn. And she was working on it.

Plus, tonight was clearly Lonny’s night. When Darcy had first showed up at the gym a few months ago, Lonny had been a little on the scrawny side and a LOT on the nerdy side. He wasn’t a day over 19 and had walked into the gym wearing a beat up old t-shirt with the Star Wars logo on the front. Darcy loved the kid right off the bat.

He had been working like a dog though, and whether it was the training or puberty starting to catch up with him, he was starting to fill out and settle into his form. Tonight, for example, Darcy was hollering encouragement as he took one of the older guys to the mat.

As the ring was clearing, Gus ambled over to her. “The kid’s really coming along, ‘aint he?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, looking over at Lonny fondly, “he’s come a long way even since I’ve been here.”

“You know that kid is absolutely over the moon for you, dontcha Lewis?” Gus asked her, and eyebrow raised.

Darcy grinned, the way the kid stumbled over his feet and his words around her hadn’t escaped her notice. She chose to find it flattering. “He’s 19 Gus, he’s got a crush on _every_ girl. I’m just the only one he sees all the time.”

“That may be,” Gus agreed amicably, “He’ll probably get over it. Besides,” Gus went on, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, “he thinks you and Rogers are an item.”

Darcy got the distinct impression that _this_ was the actual point of Gus’s conversation. It certainly wasn’t the first time the question had come up. Seriously, sometimes the guys were as bad as a bunch of old hens. She sighed. “Steve and I are just friends, Gus, you know that.”

“Alright alright!” he held his hands up placatingly, “No need to get defensive.” He paused. “It’s just he’s great and you’re great, so why not, you know?”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “You’re pretty great too Gus, maybe I wanna date you.”

Gus, realising she wasn’t going to give him an inch, winked at her, “you name the date girl, and I’ll ask my wife if it’s okay.”

+

+

He could tell from the moment she walked in on Saturday morning that something was up. She barely looked up to wave at him before she stormed directly over to one of the big heavy hanging bags and began unleashing some seriously intense fury. He approached with extreme caution.

“Hey Darce,” he said warily.

“Hi,” she said flatly, not looking up. Sweat was already beading on her forehead.

“Going pretty hard at that bag, aren’t you?” he tried.

“Yep.”

 Well that was helpful.

“Wanna tell me why?” he tried again.

“Not really,” she was huffing in little angry puffs as she punched.

“You’re gonna bruise your hands,” he said sensibly, nodding at her bare knuckles.

“Good,” she fairly growled.

And enough was about enough for Steve, because he recognised someone settling into a good long brood. He had done enough of it himself, and he wasn’t about to let Darcy fall into that kind of a funk.

He caught her hands in his, stepping between her and the bag.

“Sit,” he said firmly, pointing at the bench against the wall. She rolled her eyes at him, but she sat. 

“Alright Lewis,” he said firmly as he sat next to her, “Spill. And then I’ll let you punch me until your knuckles bleed.” He paused, “But not really, you’re going to put your gloves on.”

She quirked up her lips in a smile, and he felt a relief from a fear he hadn’t even realised he was feeling. It couldn’t be anything too serious.

“My boss talked me into a blind date.” She grumbled nearly under her breath.

Steve didn’t laugh. He didn’t. But it was a very near thing. “And this is a bad thing?” he asked carefully. Not that he was exactly thrilled at the idea of Darcy going out on a date with a guy she didn’t know, that _he_ didn’t know. But it hardly seemed the sort of thing to get bent out of shape over.

“Yes Steve, this is a bad thing,” said Darcy ominously. “I don’t even know how she _did_ it. She’s like some kind of matchmaking _ninja_.”

“Okay,” said Steve in his most reasonable tone, “what’s so bad about a blind date?”

“It’s not so much the blind part,” she was looking distinctly _not_ at him. And her voice had lost all of the little edge of humor it had held, “just the date part generally. I’m just…I don’t want to get involved in any of…that.”

This was somewhat surprising to him. Not necessarily the sentiment. Not at all really. He could sympathise. But he didn’t exactly understand it coming from _Darcy_. She had always been so open and easy going.

But then again, she had also been very insistent at drawing a completely platonic line between her and everyone at the gym. He had thought that was a gym thing, but maybe it was a _her_ thing.

“Okay,” he said simply, because it didn’t seem like the thing to get into sitting in the gym. He wasn’t really too sure he wanted to get into it at all with her. He didn’t like the idea that she had the kind of pain in her past that led to the kind of flat refusal heard in her voice. “Why can’t you just say no?”

She snorted, “It is very difficult to say no to my boss once she gets an idea in her head.” She said, “Plus, I would never stand anyone up. It’s not this guy’s fault that the good doctor is crazy.”

“Hmm,” Steve added non-commitally. “That sounds like a recipe for a great evening.”

Darcy rolled her eyes, “you’re a big help Rogers.”

“Well, I did promise to let you hit me,” he said, getting to his feet and pulling her off the bench. “Go get your gloves.”

+

 

+

 

She could _not_ believe that this was her life.

After pummeling Steve for an hour in the gym (which had no appreciable effect on him except that he kept giving her these _looks_ of sympathy mixed with amusement as she almost threw out her shoulder with the force of her punches) she had forced herself to go home, shower and put on her stand-by little black dress. She even made a moderate effort to make her hair look respectable. It had taken a healthy glass of wine and a self-pep talk about how she had been meaning to go to the restaurant in question for a while, but she had gotten herself out the door and to her date on time at 7:00.

Her date, it seemed, didn’t quite get the memo on punctuality.

7:15 had come and gone and 7:30 was almost disappearing in the rear view mirror. It wasn’t going to be too much longer before the breadsticks stopped coming and the looks of sympathy from the servers turned to annoyance.

She was going to have to admit that she had been stood up, by a guy who had never even met her, on a date she didn’t even want to be on.

She looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath, telling herself that it wasn’t the _restaurant’s_ fault and flipping over the table probably wouldn’t _actually_ help.

Just then, her phone pinged with a text message.

“Thank god,” she muttered, scrambling for it in her bag, determined to _pretend_ it was her date cancelling with a good excuse, even if it wasn’t.

It wasn’t.

But it was Steve, so that was something.

 _I know I’m not really up on all the pop culture stuff, but I hear that it’s a good idea to have an easy way out of a blind date. So this is your fake emergency, if you need it_.

She grinned, both at the content of the text and the way he always wrote out long winded and carefully correct messages.

She texted back, too fed up with the situation to prevaricate.

_You definitely got the pop culture right, but no need. I’ve been stood up._

The response was almost immediate.

 _No way do you get stood up. Where are you, I’ll be right there_.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, but sent him the address anyways.

He was there within ten minutes, looking a bit rumpled and windblown, but also sort of like her hero. She could see him looking at the staff, who had now taken to whispering about her behind their hands like she couldn’t see them, as he came in. He got that hard look on his face, like when someone threw a dirty punch in the ring.

She could _see_ his “something has to be done about this” face, but she was still surprised when he strode over to her, bent down to plant a kiss on her forehead, and said “I’m so sorry I’m late sweetheart, work was a nightmare.”

But then she saw her waitress’s jaw just about hit the floor and color flood her cheeks. She forgot, sometimes, how objectively handsome Steve was. He was also pretty good at plans. This plan of his, she thought as she watched the waitress give Steve a really obvious once over and look at her with a new respect, was her particular favorite.

After the waitress had rushed over to take their drink order and effusively indicate that she had never doubted for a minute her _friend_ would show, (“Actually,” Steve corrected sternly, “her date.”) Darcy let out a soft snort of laughter.

“Sweetheart?” she asked Steve with a raised eyebrow.

“Well I wasn’t going to let those snobby servers look at you like that,” Steve said indignantly.

“Oh, no. I got that. You’re a huge hero and I owe you forever,” she waved a hand dismissively, “but _Sweetheart_? That’s the fake pet name you’re going with for me?”

“Well it wasn’t exactly well planned out in advance,” Steve said defensively, but he was grinning. “What would you prefer?”

“I don’t know,” said Darcy, considering, “I just would have guessed you’d go for something a bit more old fashioned, like darling or doll.”

The corner of his mouth turned up into an oddly melancholic smile. “Bucky always used to call every girl he knew ‘doll’. I suppose it kind of got worn out.” He grinned properly, “He knew a lot of girls.”

Darcy was immediately intrigued. Steve hadn’t said anything to her about Bucky or the mysterious Peggy since the first time he mentioned them.  “Bit of a lady killer, hey? How come he didn’t teach you anything?”

Steve laughed, “Oh he tried, I just was never very good at it.”

“Oh come on,” Darcy prodded, “tell me you two didn’t put on your full military dress to pick up some groupies at a bar.”

“Naw,” said Steve, “he enlisted long before I did. So mostly it was double dates with him in uniform and me looking like an idiot standing next to him. One time,” he leaned back in his chair, “wasn’t even midnight before he left with _both_ girls to ‘see them home’.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow, “Boy,” she said, “you must _really_ be bad at talking to girls.” She paused, “or he was _really, really_ good.”

Steve grinned, “a little of both probably, plus” he paused, “I was…pretty scrawny for a while there.”

Darcy gave a little noise of disbelief, but whatever he needed to believe.

“Wish I could’ve met him.” She said finally.

“Yeah,” said Steve with a soft smile, and then “actually no way.” He grinned, “Buck woulda taken one look at you in the ring, fallen head over heels, and then I’d never see _either_ of you again.”

“Hey,” said Darcy in mock indignation, “who say’s I’d have fallen for him?”

“All the girls fell for Bucky,” he said fondly. “’specially when he was in uniform.”

“Well there you go,” said Darcy firmly, “a military uniform is a deal breaker for me.”

Steve looked at her blankly for a long moment. “What?” he finally managed, “I thought your family was military…”

“Exactly,” she said, wondering how this had gone from Steve talking about his past to talking about _her_ dating issues. “I know too much about the lifestyle.”

“The lifestyle?” Steve queried gently.

“Yeah, you know long deployment, constant danger, never knowing if they’re coming home.”

“I guess,” said Steve slowly, “but there’s always a risk, right?”

“Yeah,” Darcy agreed evenly, “and generally it’s a risk I’d rather not take, and _certainly_ not when the risk is as high as it is with a military man.”

“So,” Steve sounded a little upset, really, “you’re just _never_ going to fall for _anyone_ because you might end up losing them?”

“Maybe not _anyone,_ but I’ve seen what happens when a soldier doesn’t come home, Steve” it was harsher than she intended, but he _knew_ about James. She didn’t understand why he was being like this.

He let out a breath. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I didn’t think…”

“It’s okay,” she said with a little smile, “I’ve just known far too many army wives to ever want to be one.”

+

+

The rest of the meal went off pretty smoothly, or at least Steve thought so, after accidentally putting his foot in his mouth. At least it had only been the once.

The incensed anger he had felt as he sped recklessly on his motorcycle to the restaurant had faded once he had got a very satisfying glare in at the waitress. He had taken an inordinate amount of pleasure in kissing Darcy on the brow, calling her sweetheart and watching the waitress flounder as a result.

Because seriously, who stood up a girl like Darcy Lewis? Whoever the guy was, he needed a solid sock in the jaw.

It had been nice, though, having a dinner out and conversation that didn’t involve boxing or zombies. Not that he had a problem with either of those two things. Darcy was right, zombies were cool.

He did feel like he knew her a little better now though. He hadn’t really realised, until they starting talking about it, that they tended to avoid anything too personal most of the time. He couldn’t imagine why, once they got going, because it had been _nice_ to talk to her about Bucky and about his Mom and some of the less classified antics of the other Avengers (names changed, of course, to protect the surprisingly idiotic). 

And he had laughed until tears leaked out of his eyes at some of the stories she told him about growing up with a sergeant major for a father, mostly because he could picture the rebellious teenaged Darcy so clearly in his head. Also because, from the sounds of her father, there is no way that Steve would have dared to set a foot out of line growing up in that household. He both respected her guts and despaired of her good sense when she showed him the swallow tattoo she had got on her shoulder blade when she was 17.

“I tried to tell him that it stood for family loyalty,” she had said trying to keep a straight face, “but all he could say before grounding me for _eternity_ was ‘you look like a goddam Navy brat.’”

Still, he couldn’t forget the look on her face when she had made her opinions about relationships with military men clear. It kept rolling around in his head, her statement: “ _I’ve known too many army wives to ever want to be one_.”

As much as he found it easy to pretend around Darcy, he was still a soldier. All his push back about a formal honorable discharge and contractor status at SHIELD hadn’t really done a thing. He could still be called up to put himself in the line of fire on a moment’s notice and for who knows how long.

 And he would do it, without a second thought, every time. But it did make him exactly the sort of man that Darcy was avoiding. Not that it should _matter_ that Darcy didn’t want to date him. It didn’t matter. It didn’t. But it would be completely understandable for _any_ woman to want to avoid dealing with the lifestyle of a solider, let alone Captain America.

He sighed heavily, tossing between his sheets and ineffectually prodding at his pillow, willing himself to let it go and fall asleep.

+

+

He was home, and he was exhausted. The details of the battle were already fading, but the bone deep weariness born from pushing himself to his limits, high on adrenaline, was the same every time. He glanced down and noticed he was still in his uniform. Phil would be mad; he was supposed to leave it at SHIELD.

Just then, a soft noise from his bedroom put him on alert.

And then Darcy walked out.

He was so stunned that it took him a moment to realise that she didn’t seem to be wearing much more than an old button down that she must have pulled from his closet. It wasn’t exactly scandalous, but the lean expanse of creamy thighs peeking out from the hem of _his_ shirt made his mouth go dry.

“Darcy,” he croaked, “what are you doing here?”

She smiled at him sleepily. “You weren’t answering your phone. I was worried, but you’re here now.”

“Yeah, I was just…” how exactly could you explain away the uniform and grime?

She walked up to him and placed a hand on his chest, her hand pale and tiny against the filthy material. “I know who you are Steve,” she looked up into his eyes, “there’s no uniform that could change that.”

“Oh,” he said, a little stupidly, but the way she was looking at him and the hint of cleavage he could see between the buttons on her shirt were rapidly draining away any IQ points.

“We should get you out of this thing,” she said, taking his hand.

“Uh…” was all he managed, but followed her without protest as she pulled him towards the bedroom.

“Turn around,” she said, the edge of command in her voice so familiar to him by now that he obeyed easily.

Her hands were on his back, finding zippers and tugging at the tough fabric until the top fell away. He felt her press her cheek against his skin, her hand wrapping around his stomach to find the fastening of his pants.

“Darcy,” it was half whispered and he wasn’t sure if it was in warning or encouragement.

All she said was “Shhh…,” and then he was standing naked in front of her. He didn’t feel nearly so exposed as he would have thought; her arms were around him and her body was pressed against him and it felt comfortable and easy.

It was almost instinct to turn in her embrace, to tuck a hand into the soft strands of her hair, to pull her closer and cover her mouth with his. She let out a low noise as her lips opened under his and he plunged into her mouth eagerly. The way her hands gripped at his skin and the way that she pressed closer, and the way she tasted in his mouth were quickly driving him from comfortable and easy to frantic and desperate.

Her hand slipped between them and he couldn’t keep from gasping as she took him in her grasp, breaking their kiss and letting his head fall to her shoulder. Her mouth was hot against his neck as her fingers wrapped around him and began to slowly slide up and down his length, her thumb brushing the head of his cock, slick with pre-cum. All he could do was grasp at her desperately, clutching the firm curve of her ass, the gentle slope of her hips, as the noises he was making grew louder.

“Darcy,” he finally gasped, grabbing her wrist to stop her movement.

She smiled up at him, a look he had never seen before on her face, open and wanting and just a little bit dangerous. She started slowly unbuttoning his shirt, one by own until it hung open off her shoulders.

“Darcy,” he breathed again, “You’re _beautiful_.”

She kissed him again and he slid his hands up her sides and over her shoulders until the shirt fell to the ground with a whisper.

It only took two stumbling steps before they tumbled together onto his bed, her body flush against his, skin meeting skin, and he could feel the weight of her, the heat of her, right through him. Time seemed to slow down as he grabbed her firmly and pulled her until she sat astride his hips, her wet heat pressing against his hard length and her strong arms shaking where they were pressed against his chest.

He looked up at her, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

In answer, she reached between them, took hold of his erection, and guided him into her until he was sunk to the hilt in her aching warmth.

“ _Fuck_ Darce,” he exclaimed, his hips twitching as he willed himself to hold still.

“Yeah,” said Darcy with a sinful grin, “That’s the idea.” And she lifted her hips and crashed back down into him, her head falling back with a throaty moan.

All thoughts of control quickly slipped away as they found a rhythm, he could feel himself drawing closer, and it wasn’t _enough_. He grabbed her hips firmly with one hand, planted the other and made to roll them over…

 

…and found himself lying on the floor, tangled in sheets, and definitely, _definitely_ alone.

He was still caught up in the dream, aching with need, and it didn’t take more than a few messy swipes until he was coming.

And then he caught his breath.

And then he remembered what he had been dreaming about. _Who_ he had been dreaming about.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he muttered with feeling.


	5. Chapter 5

After he had pulled himself together and _cleaned up,_ for Christ’s sake what was he a _teenager?_  Steve made himself a cup of tea and sat down at his kitchen table for a long think.

He eventually came to the conclusion that it didn’t have to _mean_ anything. Yes, Darcy was an incredibly attractive woman and, yeah, it had been a really long time since Steve had even been _close_ to getting any action. So maybe this was a positive thing. Maybe he was ready to start looking for something more than friendship. It was certainly the first time he had dreamt about a woman other than Peggy in a long time. And those dreams were never very fun.

But while Darcy was _incredible_ and he’d be _damn_ lucky to find a girl even half as wonderful as her, she was also his best friend. You didn’t mess with that. Even if the thought of her hands on him still sent a little shiver of arousal down his spine.

No, the best thing for it was just to chalk it up to animal instinct, let the more civilised part of his brain be in control, and forget that it ever happened.

It was a plan. It may not have been a particularly _good_ plan. But Steve always felt better with a plan.

+

+

“Hey Lonny!” Sal shouted from the door of the office, and Darcy stilled the bag in front of her to look up.

“Yeah Boss?” the kid sparring with Steve in the ring looked up.

“What are you doing Saturday night?” Sal’s voice was casual, but his eyes twinkled.

“Not much,” Lonny responded, “why?”

“Just thought you might like to make a little spending money in a fight uptown,” he couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

“Seriously?” Lonny had been training hard and had been itching to get into the ring for real for _months._ Darcy felt herself grinning just at the sight of his excitement.

“Seriously,” said Sal, “you’ve earned it kid.”

The whole gym converged on Lonny, slapping his back and congratulating him.

Once the crowd cleared a bit, Steve ambled up to her. “You done for the day? Heading home?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute to change,” she said.

She saw Sal hustle over to Steve as she headed for the changeroom with a sideways glance at her. She rolled her eyes and went on about her business. Sal, it turned out, was more of an old busy body than Gus. She supposed that, back in his day, a platonic friendship between a man and a woman wasn’t too common. But neither was a girl who boxed, and they seemed to get over that just fine, so they’d get over this, too.

As they were walking home, Steve with both his and Darcy’s gym bag over his shoulder (she had stopped arguing about that weeks ago), he turned to her with a grin, “great news about Lonny, hey?”

“Yeah,” Darcy agreed, “that little nerd has worked his ass off.”

Steve had once suggested that maybe he had started boxing just to survive high school. He probably wasn’t far off.

“You going?” he asked.

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Darcy said, “I’d love to if I can get a ticket.”

“Oh, that’s too bad, I think Sal said they were sold out,” Steve said, reaching into his pocket.

“Damn,” Darcy answered, “That sucks.”

“Yeah,” said Steve in mock sympathy, “If only someone hadn’t scored the last two tickets from Sal.” He came up holding a pair of tickets.

Darcy smacked him on the arm, “You’re getting sassy Steve,” she grinned, “I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Terrifying,” Steve deadpanned, “You wanna go?”

There was something a bit odd about the request. A little bit stilted and awkward in a way he hadn’t been around her since the first weeks she had known him. He didn’t…he wasn’t asking her _out_ was he?

She shrugged off the thought resolutely. It was just _Steve_ for cripes sake. She rolled her eyes at her reluctance to take the Lord’s name in vain even in her inner monologue. Maybe it was Steve that was rubbing off on her.

+

+

 “Hold it Rogers,” Tony stepped in front of him as he tried to move for the Stark tower elevator, cutting out early after a team dinner. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

“Out?” said Steve, knowing that Tony wouldn’t be satisfied with the answer.

“With whom Steven, will there be parents there, are you going to be _drinking_?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Tony, I’m going to watch a boxing match with a friend from the gym.”

Tony deflated a little, “Oh, well that’s boring.” He said, clearly losing interest.

“You know me,” said Steve wryly, “I never have any fun.”

+

+

He _was_ having fun though. He had been worried about asking Darcy to go. Partially because of the way Sal was so obviously angling for the two of them to get together, _definitely_ because of that dream, but maybe mostly because he couldn’t blame the way he had thought about her in the shower with his cock in his hand earlier that day on his subconscious.

He thought it was positive that he was at least being honest with himself, anyways.

But it turned out that whatever was going on with him, it didn’t change the way that it was still fun and easy to be around Darcy. When he met her at the fight, they fell easily into established patterns.

And if he noticed a little more the way her jeans clung to her hips and the way her blouse dipped to show a bit of cleavage, well Darcy didn’t seem to notice any difference, or at least didn’t care one way or the other how he looked at her.

And he found himself sort of disappointed.

He didn’t have too long to dwell on this though, as right before Lonny was set to fight, his phone went off. Not his cellphone, but the “batphone” as Clint insisted on calling it. He tensed. Please not tonight dammit.

But there was no helping it. He pressed the phone to his ear.

“Rogers, where the hell are you?” It was Hill.

“Out with a friend, you need me?” he shouted into the mouthpiece over the noise of the arena.

“Make your excuses Rogers, and Assemble at the tower.” The line went dead with a click. He sighed.

Darcy was looking at him curiously. He probably looked frustrated, she could always read him like a book.

“Everything okay?” he could barely hear her, so he leaned in close to respond.

“Work emergency,” he said. He had told her that he was an accountant. He had no idea what sort of emergency accountants had at 9:30 on a Saturday. Natasha would probably have an idea for him though. “I have to go.”

“Seriously?” she asked.

He shrugged.

She set her mouth in an exaggerated frown, “fine, go and leave me! I’ll tell Lonny you don’t care about his career.”

Steve put a hand on her arm, “be careful okay?” he gestured with his other hand at the rowdy crowd, “and cab home. Text me when you do.”

God only knew what could be out there on the streets of New York tonight if the Avengers were being called in.

“You’re a worry wart Steve,” she said into his ear, but her smile was warm so he thought he was probably forgiven.

“Give my congrats to Lonny when he wins,” Steve said, and ducked out of the crowd.

+

+

It was past midnight before Darcy made it back to her apartment. Lonny had, in fact, won the fight and she had gone with him and Sal to meet up with Gus and a few others who had been watching on Pay per view at Gus’s place. The celebration was probably still going over there, but Darcy could never count on having Sunday’s off if something was going on at the lab.

Plus, she had caught bits and pieces of the news that indicated the Avengers were out in Manhattan last night battling some sort of horned beasts. The world was getting weirder and weirder. If they had anything to do with Thor or Loki, Darcy could be sure she’d be getting a call from Jane early in the morning.

Which is why she was particularly peeved when someone started pounding at her door at 1am.

She stalked to the door and peered through the peephole to find a very distressed looking Steve Rogers on the other side. She remembered with a sudden sickening lurch that she had promised to text him when she got home. She had not, as her battery had died and her phone was still powered down and charging by her bed.

“Oh shit,” she muttered, pulling back the deadbolt and unlocking her door.

“Steve,” she starting sheepishly, “I’m so sorr…” She was cut off as all 6 feet 3 inches of him swept her off her feet in a hug she thought might actually kill her.

“Thank god,” he muttered into her hair, holding her tightly for a moment before setting her on her feet and stepping back, “What the hell Darcy?”

Now he looked mad, Darcy felt a little shell shocked.

“My phone died,” she managed weakly. “Sorry.” She had never considered the potentially lethal properties of being hugged by a man that tall and…intense. It was kind of nice, actually.

“Your phone died?” He gazed at her incredulously, running a hand through his hair. “Jesus Darcy, there are murderous Bilgesnipes running around Manhattan, you didn’t text, and you wouldn’t answer your phone and all you can say is sorry?”

“Bilgesnipes?” Darcy asked, because it seemed the safest part of that sentence to ask about.

“Big horned things, saw it on the news,” he said quickly, “not the point Darcy.”

She sighed, “I know, I’m so sorry Steve. I didn’t think.”

Steve sighed, “Just…just please don’t do that to me again, okay? I have a bad habit of jumping to the worst case scenario because that seems to be pretty much standard for my life.”

He looked exhausted and strained and so sad. And at least part of that was because he was worried for her. It made her feel sort of warm and gooey.

“Thank you,” she said, giving in to her first instinct and wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his chest.

 “For what?” Steve sounded flustered, but his arms fell against her shoulders, one hand pressed against the back of her hair.

“For worrying about me.” She said, her voice muffled.

“Of course I worry Darcy,” he said in a tired voice, “what good am I if I let my best friend get trampled by alien hell beasts.” There was a hint of a smile in his voice, so Darcy thought maybe she was out of the doghouse.

“Bilgesnipes.” She parroted back to him cheekily.

“Smartypants,” he said.

Darcy pulled back, “The smartiest,” she grinned. “You missed quite the celebration tonight,” she said, disentangling herself, “rampaging hell beasts aside, it was a pretty good night.”

“Lonny won?” he asked hopefully.

“Handily,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll hear all about it at the gym. What about that work emergency?”

“Handled,” he said, “client got back from vacation to find out they were getting audited. Had a bit of a panic attack.”

“Sounds fun,” said Darcy sarcastically.

“The funnest,” Steve agreed.

+

+

He walked around the living room to peer into the small kitchen. And then his gaze fell on a photo on the mantle, a young, good looking man in military dress.

“Who’s that?” Steve asked, trying to keep his voice casual. He couldn’t remember having seen the photo around before.  It seemed like a safe enough question, lots of her family was military.

It was the wrong question, he could see it immediately. He was in incredible idiot. He had forgotten, for the five seconds that would have counted most, about her brother.

“That’s James, my brother.” She said quietly

“I’m sorry,” said Steve, backpedalling rapidly “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m always putting my foot in my mouth.” He felt scattered, the intensity of his fear when he had got back to his cellphone and had no text from Darcy had been distracting and unbalancing.

It was getting harder to pretend that what he felt for her was simple.

“It’s okay,” she said kindly, “I’m getting used to him being gone.”

“No one should have to get used to something like that,” said Steve fiercely, probably a little too fiercely, because Darcy came up to him and put a hand on his arm. He didn’t _want_ that for her, though. He knew the feeling too well to wish it on someone he…cared about, like Darcy.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, blowing out a sigh, “I just…Bucky and Peggy. It still hurts sometimes.” He said finally. It was true, and seemed simpler than talking about _her._

 “It’s the might have beens that are the worst part, aren’t they?” she said, squeezing his wrist.

“Sometimes,” Steve agreed, concentrating intensely on where her fingers wrapped around his hand “but on the other hand, tonight you might’ve been out in the city, rather than safe at home.”

“Yeah,” Darcy agreed, “at some point the good stuff starts outweighing the bad, right?”

The look in her eyes was a little bit heart breaking. Like she wasn’t sure she believed what she was saying.

“I’m starting to think so,” said Steve, with a bit more honestly than he intended, looking down at her intently.

He thought he saw spots of color rising in her cheeks, but she broke away, clearly wanting the moment to pass. He tried to ignore the sinking feeling that left him with.

“So,” Darcy said flopping onto the couch, “now that you’re here, want to watch the 24 hour news stations go bananas over the Avengers?”

“Really?” Steve raised an eyebrow but sat next to her on the couch, “you watch that garbage?” The idea of Darcy watching him in uniform was terrifying. How long before she realised that their build was the same? And the cowl didn’t always stay on…

“Mmmm,” she said, flipping through the channels until she found was she was looking for, “I mean _look_ at that.”

He was somewhat horrified to find that the news caster was narrating over a still photo of him from earlier that night, crouched with his back to the camera and his shield in front of both him and Natasha, facing down a Bilgesnipe.

“Look at what?” he asked almost afraid, but also intensely curious.

“Oh come on Steve, I get that you are straighter than straight, but even you have to be able to appreciate that Captain America’s ass is a work of art.”

“Wh…what?” Steve almost choked. He fought back the flush of heat that was creeping up his neck. Darcy thought about his _ass?_ Well, he thought with a sobering pause, not _his_ exactly.

“Seriously, it’s, like, not even real. No offence Steve-O, I mean you’re a good looking guy, but that?” she gestured at the screen, “that’s not even _fair_. “

“But what about all those things you said about military men?” Steve protested, although he wasn’t really sure how this was getting off the subject, it just felt unsafe to go down this particular road. It was far too close to the issues he was having with his confused feelings about her.

 “That’s the beauty of it Steve,” she said gleefully, ”He’s got all up-sides of the military life style; you know, duty, honor, arms that look like they could crush a tank; plus, he’s _completely_ unattainable. I mean, Captain America is never going to break your heart, because you’re never going to _meet_ the guy. Oh yeah, top ten laminated list material for sure.”

“Laminated list?” Steve asked faintly, more to keep up the façade of normalcy than anything. That sinking feeling was back again, confirming what he had already known, really. Darcy wasn’t interested in _him_ at all, just his “unattainable” alter ego.

And if he ever told her that Captain America was probably _very_ attainable if she wanted him, well then both of them would probably be off her list.

He had to get whatever it was he was feeling under control, or he was going to do something stupid like kiss her, or tell her the truth, and then he’d lose one of the best friends he’d ever had.

“Yeah,” said Darcy casually, “everyone gets a list of ten people they are allowed to just throw themselves at with impunity. Captain America is right at the top of mine.”

The screen switched to showing a posed promo shot of him in his suit. He would have to say that Darcy literally swooned, falling against the back of the couch and fanning herself.

“I promise I won’t be offended if you want to make some lewd comments about the Black Widow.” She said with a cheeky grin.

“I value my life too much,” he mumbled under his breath, distractedly.

“What was that?” Darcy asked.

“Uh, nothing,” said Steve hastily. He wished he had stopped her a long time ago. He wished he knew how to change the subject. He wished that he actually though she _would_ throw herself at him if he told her who he really was, because the feel of her in his arms when he found her safe and warm and alive tonight was something he didn’t think he was going to forget.

 “I…uh, I think I should go.” Steve said, standing up, “It’s late. I don’t want to keep you.”

“Steve,” said Darcy with a grin, “are you upset that I said Captain America has a better ass than you?”

“What?” he had _no_ idea how to respond to that, “That’s not even…That doesn’t make….just, no Darcy.”

He could see that look in her eyes, the one she got when she hit on a particular subject that made him squirm and usually resulted in her calling him a boy scout and him blushing bright red but laughing anyways. He didn’t particularly feel like laughing this time.

“You sure? It doesn’t make you uncomfortable that I would just _die_ to peel off that spandex suit and get down on my knees for America?”

“Darcy!!” Steve let out a strangled shout, partly because sometimes he couldn’t _believe_ the things that came out of her mouth, and partly because he now couldn’t shake the image of her on her knees in front of him, her mouth painted red… he shook his head. “I’m going now,” he said firmly, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“You’re such a prude,” she said fondly, “and thanks for worrying about me.”

“Anytime,” he said, “but please don’t ever make me do it again.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Sure as death and taxes, Jane called at 9am the next morning asking Darcy to come into the lab. Bilgesnipes, apparently, were Asgardian. The fact that their migration pattern suddenly took them on a detour through New York meant that there was a portal somewhere or someone was messing with the rainbow bridge or something. Darcy didn’t really get it all. She was really tired. And a little bit hung over.

In retrospect, she sort of regretted telling Steve so much about her celebrity crush on Captain America. He had looked really uncomfortable.

It had made _her_ kind of uncomfortable. Which had led directly to awkward babbling, which in turn led to talking to Steve about giving Captain America a blow job.

That was probably one step too far for Steve, based on the way he had pretty much run out of her apartment afterwards.

It left her feeling a bit odd. She didn’t like doing things that hurt Steve, and he had looked kind of hurt. She was pretty much an expert on reading his expressions, particularly because he wasn’t all that good at hiding them.

He also hadn’t been all that good at hiding the way he had been checking her out at the fight. And now, after the way he had come to her apartment to make sure she was safe and wrapped himself around her, and the way he clearly really didn’t like to hear her talk about other men, even if they were essentially imaginary, she wasn’t entirely certain that Steve wasn’t developing _feelings_.

The _really_ odd part was that she should be upset, she should be worried about this, she should be freaking out about how to save their friendship and the gym dynamic while avoiding the _feelings_ at all costs. But she wasn’t. In fact, she wasn’t _entirely_ sure that she wasn’t kind of _extremely_ amped about the idea that Steve might want something more from her than friendship. It had been a really long time since she had even considered something like this.

It kind of felt like a big deal.  Feeling it about _Steve_ kind of felt like a big deal.

She was clearly dwelling on it too much, especially since even Jane noticed that she was distracted. So she was relieved when Hill stuck her head in the lab and called Jane into a meeting.

However, the relief was _very_ short lived.

She looked down the hall and saw, quite clearly, Steve Rogers walking past the lab. She was momentarily incredibly confused. What the hell was Steve doing at SHIELD? He shouldn’t have the clearance to be down here. In fact, no one came down here except the scientists if they could avoid it.

“See you up there Foster,” Hill said, “I’m just going to catch the Captain so I can brief him on the way.” She gestured after Steve.

_What?_

Darcy’s brain ground to a halt.

That was definitely Steve, unless he had an evil twin around. And Hill had definitely just called him the Captain. And if he was going to Avengers meeting time there was only one goddamn Captain he could be.

“Ohhhhhhhh my goooooooood.” Darcy groaned, sitting on a lab stool with a thump.

“Darcy?” Jane questioned. “Are you okay? You look white as a sheet.”

“Fine,” said Darcy, even though she most definitely was _not_ fine. “I’m fine. Just feeling a bit sick. You go to your meeting.”

“Fine, but only if you go home. I’ll be alright until tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure Jane, see you then.” Darcy managed absently.

All that was running through her head on the way home was the conversation they had had last night in her apartment. “Get down on her knees for America?” Oh my god, how was this her life?

And how could Steve not _tell_ her. How could he let her talk about him like that without saying anything? He was probably laughing at her with Clint “I think it’s funny to make foxy boxing jokes” Barton.

Anger, it turned out, was far easier to deal with than crushing embarrassment and the _very_ different spin this put on how she felt about Steve’s _feelings_. She settled on it as a coping mechanism.

+

+

Steve was only half paying attention throughout the debrief with the science team. They really only needed him there for his observations, not to pay attention to the math of it all.

The other half of his mind was fixated firmly on Darcy. He had dreamt about her again last night. Not like the first time, not really. She had just been lying around his apartment, in that same button down shirt, reading a book and smiling at him when he brought her a cup of tea.

And then, that morning, he had somewhat guiltily thought about her kneeling in front of him, still in his uniform, his hands in her hair as she…

He shook his head for a moment to clear it and tune back into the meeting.

The bottom line is that it was becoming unmistakably clear that he was falling really hard for Darcy and he couldn’t deny it any more. Unfortunately, finally admitting to that didn’t exactly _help_ what with the really uncomfortable information that a) Darcy didn’t know he was Captain America, b) Darcy had a celebrity crush on Captain America and c) part of the reason she liked Captain America is that, in her mind, he was unattainable and thus would never hurt her.

He could so clearly remember that sadness in her voice when she talked about soldiers who threw themselves at danger, long deployments, and her brother’s funeral.

When the meeting was finally over, he made a bee line for the door, desperate to get out, maybe get on his bike and drive for as long as it took him to sort this out.

Natasha, apparently, had other plans.

“Rogers,” she said in an undertone as she grabbed him firmly by the elbow, “You got a minute?” she was pulling him into an empty meeting room regardless, so he didn’t think she was really asking. Off the clock Natasha wasn’t so much for taking orders and was generally more interested in giving them.

“Do I have a choice?” he asked wryly, propping himself up against the table and watching her, her arms folded.

Natasha’s eyebrow raised, and he thought it meant she was amused. He wasn’t sure. He often thought that, while her English was flawless, her expressions were sometimes still in Russian, and he wasn’t very good at translating.

“No,” she said, but her lips turned up in the barest of grins. “I know about Darcy,” she continued without preamble. “And I’m hazarding a guess that she has something to do with how distracted you’ve been lately.”

He should stop being surprised by her skills, he really should, but he couldn’t help it. “How did you….?” He asked incredulously.

Natasha waved a hand in an elegantly dismissive behaviour, “basically the only thing you do outside the tower is box, someone outside of the tower has thrown you for a loop, Clint saw boxing gloves in Darcy’s bag a while ago. It wasn’t rocket science from there.”

“But, how does Clint…” Steve was bewildered.

“She works for Jane Foster, tasered Thor one time. Clint likes to bring her coffee. She’s sassy.”

“She _what?_ ”  Because really, how was this happening to him right now? Although the tasering itself wasn’t exactly all that surprising.

“Everyone has secrets Cap,” Natasha said evenly.

“Oh,” said Steve, then pausing, “does anyone else…”

“Clint,” Natasha finished for him, “no one else.”

He let out a little breath of relief. Clint and Natasha he would trust to be discrete with _anything._ Tony, on the other hand…

“Listen, it’s not a big…”

“It _is_ a big deal,” he was fairly used to Natasha’s abrupt conversation style at this point, “you were unfocused last night, your attention was elsewhere, and you didn’t participate in the debrief the way you need to. Whatever is going on is affecting your work. You need to fix it, or _someone_ needs to be aware of what it is so they can watch your back.”

Anyone else might have heard the fierce tone of her critique and bristled, but the part that stuck with Steve was _watch your back,_ so he sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and started talking.

“You were right; I met her at the gym, months ago now. She boxes. She’s tough, doesn’t take any crap, you’d probably like her,” he paused with a little grin, “anyways, we were friends, you know? I had no idea she was tied up with SHIELD. It was all really simple, we hung out sometimes. It was nice. But then I… well I messed up,” he trailed off uncomfortably

“You crossed the line, started to want more,” Natasha interjected. It wasn’t a question, but Steve nodded anyways.

“Why is that a problem, exactly,” Natasha asked evenly.

“She doesn’t want…well…uh, look,” he sighed, letting go of his embarrassment in the search for some advice, “she said right at the start that she was just in the gym to work out like everyone else, and probably more importantly her brother was killed in action and now she’s dead set against getting involved with a soldier, and _then_ ,” he was getting a bit worked up, he could tell. This was probably Natasha’s whole point, really, “I find out, right when I’m finally figuring out that I _like_ her, that she has a _crush_ on Captain America, but it’s at least partially because _she’ll never meet him_.” He let out a breath, embarrassed at how loud that had ended up. But Natasha had been right, as always, whatever was going on _was_ affecting him, more than he had wanted to admit.

Natasha, in what was probably one of the most surprising moments he had ever seen from her, let out a little snort of laughter and then clapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry Steve,” she said after a minute, her eyes still dancing, “I get that this is probably not that funny to you, but you _have_ to see the irony of it all.”

Steve grinned begrudgingly, “yeah,” he said, “I suppose.”

“Look,” Natasha was clearly back to business, “it doesn’t really seem like going on like you have been is a feasible option. So the way I see it, you’ve got two choices. Firstly, you can remove yourself from the situation, get some distance and get over it.”

Steve definitely did _not_ like that option.

“Secondly, you can man up, stop obsessing about what she _might_ think and tell the girl you like her, see what happens.”

It sounded so simple when Natasha said it. Could he really just _do_ that?

“But what about the whole…Captain…thing?” he asked.

“I admit that dropping that particular bomb on her at the same time as you tell her your feelings have changed would be enough to scare almost anyone away. But there’s no reason you have to tell her.”

“Tasha,” Steve began indignantly, “I’m not going to just…”

Natasha held up a hand and stopped him. “I’m not saying _never_ tell her. She obviously has the clearance, Clint and I both know her pretty well actually.” She smiled at Steve’s shocked expression, “and you’re right, I _do_ like her, which is why I think you need to give her a bit more credit. She knows you, she obviously likes spending time with you, so why don’t you find out if she’s even interested in more in the first place and deal with the Captain later.”

“Huh,” said Steve, after processing that, “you know that makes a lot of sense,” he was feeling a smile start to creep across his face and the sinking feeling that had been pulling him down since the night before was starting to lift.

“Of course it does,” said Natasha, rolling her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on her face as well.

“Hey, thanks,” he said, clapping her warmly on the shoulder, “I really needed that.”

“You tell anyone about this,” said Natasha with a dangerously raised eyebrow.

“Yeah yeah,” said Steve, “I know, I’m a dead man.”

The corner of her lips quirked up, “tell me how it goes,” she tossed over her shoulder as she walked out.

+

+

Darcy had been rocketing back and forth between anger and gut wrenching embarrassment all afternoon. So when she saw Steve’s name on her phone as it rang, she almost didn’t answer it. Almost.

She picked it up with trepidation.

“Hello?”

“Hi Darcy,” Steve’s voice came across the line, “How are you?”

“Good, good,” she said awkwardly. “You?”

“Great,” he sounded nervous though. “Listen, I was wondering what you were up to tonight?”

“Uh, not much.” She said, “why, is there something going on at the gym?”

“Well, no…” he paused, “I just wanted to ask if, maybe you wanted to see a movie or something?”

Captain fucking America wanted to go to a movie with her.

Steve Rogers, lying liar pants wanted to go to a movie with her.

Was it treason to turn down Captain America? She’d have to look it up, but she was going to do it anyways.

“Oh…uh, geez I forgot, I can’t” she stumbled over the lie, “I’ve got to clean up and get ready for my Dad, he’s coming into town tomorrow.” Not, you know, until the evening, but Steve didn’t know that.

There was an awkward pause where it became clear that Steve may not know the specifics, but he definitely knew she was lying.

“Oh, right. Okay. Well…have fun with your Dad then. I guess we won’t see you at Sal’s this weekend?”

“No, I’ll be pretty busy,” she agreed quickly. She was crossing her fingers that she could talk her Dad out of wanting to go by.

“Sure,” he sounded a bit hollow, “I’ll see you ‘round then.” He hung up without waiting for her to say goodbye. The click of the receiver sent a very uncomfortable pang of regret curling down her spine.

It wasn’t like she could just _forget_ all the things she felt about Steve just because he was a no good rotten liar and also Captain America. And she was also 99% sure that this had been Steve gutting up and asking her out on a date.

Knowing him, it would have taken him more than an hour into it to work up the nerve to actually _tell_ her it was a date. A day ago, she probably would have said yes, and maybe when he stammered through his awkward explanation, she would have just taken his hand and said “I know” and that would have been that.

The thought brought a smile to her face for a moment, how easy it would have been just to take that tiny step over the line from what they were to what they could be.

But now…

She thought about the news footage of Steve facing down one of the horned bilgesnipes with nothing but his shield, and she felt sick.

+

+

“Major!” Darcy hollered across the crowded platform as she saw her Dad get off of the train from JFK. As he approached, she tossed him a very non regulation salute.

“Majorette,” he called warmly with a smile, ignoring her salute and holding his arms open. She gave herself a moment, comfortably surrounded by her Dad’s arms, to just let herself relax. She was somehow unsurprised to find tears welling up in her eyes.

“Well hey now,” her Dad said, setting her back and looking at her with concern, “what’s all this?”

“Oh nothing,” she smiled a little weakly at him, “just happy to see you.”

He didn’t look too convinced, but her Dad wasn’t really one to pry. “It’s been far too long kiddo,” he said, picking up his bag, “let me buy you a drink.”

+

+

It was like one of the worst sorts of inevitable natural laws. She was determined to enjoy her time with her Dad and _not_ think about Steve, so of _course_ she practically walked right into him just down the street from the pub she was taking her dad to. It was pretty much next door to both of their apartments, so she shouldn’t be _that_ surprised, but her mouth dropped open and she could feel her face heating with an embarrassed blush.

“Steve!” she exclaimed in surprise.

“Hi,” he said awkwardly, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Her father was watching them with sharp eyes. Good lord, this was going to be ugly.

And then Steve, god bless him, drew himself up, pulled his hand out of his pockets and turned to her father, “You must be Major Lewis,” he said extending his hand, “I’m Steve Rogers, I know Darcy from Sal’s gym.”

Her dad looked at her with a raised eyebrow before taking Steve’s hand, “A pleasure Steve,” Darcy knew for a fact that her Dad was probably doing his best to crush it, but Steve only grinned and said, “A helluva handshake you got there sir, I can see where Darcy gets her right hook from.”

And her Dad, who usually looked like he was one step away from going for a shotgun every time Darcy was around a man, tipped his head back and laughed.

“You’re alright Steven,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder, “come have a drink with us.”

Steve looked over at her questioningly. At this point, all she could do was shrug helplessly. Her dad basically did what he was going to do and it would probably be easiest for all parties involved if they just went along with it.

“I’d be honored Sir,” he said, and honestly sounded like he _meant_ it. Darcy wished he would just stop being so _wonderful_ for five minutes so she could sort out her feelings.

+

+

“So,” her Dad started in the moment they had sat down and ordered, “what class are you boxing Steve?” he was eyeing the size of Steve’s shoulders critically. “High mids, at least, right?”

“Actually, I don’t really fight,” said Steve evenly, despite her Dad’s raised eyebrows, “it’s just a hobby.”

Darcy wondered if Steve could read her Dad’s _bullshit_ face. It was pretty clear to her.

“Really?” he drawled, “what is it that you do.”

“I’m an accountant actually,” said Steve, rubbing the back of his neck a bit awkwardly.

Accountant my ass, Darcy thought to herself. Although, it did take a lot of nerve to call himself an accountant to her Dad. He was the sort of man that made you want to impress him. “I’m Captain America” is probably the most impressive line of all time, and yet Steve stuck with his accountant cover story.

This time, her Dad didn’t even bother with the face.

“Bullshit, Steven,” he exclaimed, “Bull. Shit.” He drew it out, but he was grinning.

Steve laughed, “You know, Darcy had just about the same reaction. I used to be military though, I think that’s what throws people off.”

“Really?” Darcy watched with growing horror as her Dad got his _very interesting_ face on. He looked sideways at her in a way that made her want to hide under the table. Her Dad might not pry, but _boy_ could he push.

“Yeah, got an honorable discharge about two years ago now,” he said, and then with a sideways look at her he added, “took the crow’s flight.”

That meant _something_ to her Dad, because he sat up a little straighter and _immediately_ dropped one of his favorite subjects: rehashing his glory days in basic boot.

Huh. Well _that_ was interesting. And was Steve actually lying about the discharge? Because two years ago would put him at about the time when he _woke up from a 70 year nap_ , if the rumors were true.

Somewhere along the line while she was busy being angry at him and confused about what the whole thing meant, she had forgotten about the story that the Captain America who had helped save New York from aliens was the same Captain America who punched Hitler a lot in WWII. She had never more than half believed the rumors, and she had never worked up the nerve to ask Clint or Natasha, but _of course_ he was. It made so much sense now, Steve’s manners and lack of pop culture knowledge, and the way he was so careful with her.

And, she supposed, he really _had_ been scrawny for a while there, if the history books weren’t lying.

And Peggy. Agent Margaret Carter. Wow. That must have been such a mind fuck for Steve.

But, thinking about it, It made her feel a little better, knowing he had told her some stories about a time in his life that almost no one knew about, even if she didn’t know the significance of it at the time.

Her head was reeling trying to assimilate this new information, but thankfully her Dad and Steve seemed to be carrying on a conversation just fine without her. She eventually, with the help of a few healthy slugs of beer, got her head on straight before they went too far down the “embarrassing childhood stories about Darcy” road.

It was surprisingly easy to just let herself get carried along with the conversation. Steve was respectful and interesting and her Dad was obviously impressed with him, which meant he’d probably be a little less worried about Darcy on her own in the big city, which was good.

And even though the knowledge of who he was was sitting heavily on her, she found that it was still _Steve_ and it didn’t change that she _liked_ being around him. All in all, the evening went far better than she could have anticipated.

“Well,” her dad finally said around midnight, “It’s about time for the old folks to head to bed. I’ll grab a cab to the hotel Darce,” he said quickly as she went to stand, “you kids don’t feel a need to call it quits on my account.”

Ah yes, there was her father the meddler, grinning a really obvious grin at her as he pushed her to stay and have a drink with Steve. Alone.

She must have looked vaguely terrified, because Steve gave her a long look that was a lot sadder than she liked and then said, “Actually I should be getting home as well. Gotta be up early.”

Her Dad frowned as they gathered their things, “Well, will you at least make sure she gets home safe Steven,” he said, “I know she’s an independent girl, but a father worries about who she meets in a big city.”

“Of course sir,” Steve said without hesitation. “I’ll even make sure she lets you know she got there safely.”

Her Dad clapped Steve on the back, “you’re a good man Rogers,” he said, “I’m glad she’s got you to look out for her.”

Steve nodded and smiled as her Dad got into the cab and drove off.

And then they were standing there alone.

There was an awkward pause.

“Well, I should…get you home.” Said Steve finally.

“You don’t have to….” Darcy started, but Steve interrupted.

“I promised,” he said firmly, “and your dad isn’t a man I’d want to cross.” The humor in his smile didn’t quite touch his eyes.

He just looked so distant and uncomfortable that she couldn’t take it anymore. Against all her best judgement, she linked her arm through his elbow and pulled him down the street towards her apartment.

He looked at her in surprise for a moment, but all she said was “it’s cold,” and moved a little closer. He looked away, but she could see him hiding a smile, and it felt like a relief, just to see him not so tense.

She had _no idea_ what she was doing, but at least it wasn’t as awkward anymore.

He walked her right up to her door, which was pretty normal for him really. But the tension in his frame as he stood there was not.

“I had fun.” He said, almost tentatively.

“Yeah,” she said, and it wasn’t a lie.

She was watching him, trying to figure out what he was about. He was moving closer. Oh my god, Steve was going to kiss her. She could smell him around her, something clean and masculine, not cologne but the smell of soap and leather.

And, she realised with a distant sort of surprise, she _wanted_ him to kiss her.

But god help her she just could not shut off her rational brain. Because right as her eyes were closing and she could feel the brush of his hand in her hair, she thought of Jim’s fiancé Karen, and the way she had stood rigid and unmoving all through the funeral, and how she hadn’t really smiled since.

She ducked her head to one side, and Steve immediately pulled away.

“Sorry,” he took a step back, “Sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”

“It’s okay,” she tried to say.

“I didn’t mean to…I’ll just. I’m going to go.”

He didn’t wait for her to say anything more, and she really didn’t know what she would say. So she just watched him go.

 


	7. Chapter 7

All Steve wanted to do was crawl into a hole and be miserable. He was an idiot; of _course_ Darcy didn’t want to date him. She had told him from the beginning that she wasn’t a girl, she was a gym buddy. Now he had ruined it, and she wasn’t his girl _or_ his gym buddy.

But the alarm went off like it did every morning, and the sun came up and Steve dragged himself out of bed. He stood at the door for a long time, unease roiling in his stomach, as he considered whether he should just stay home. But he told himself firmly that he was _not_ a coward and forced himself to put one foot in front of another all the way to the gym.

Of course, _of course_ Darcy and her father were there. Sal and the Major were talking in the office, and Darcy was the only other person around. She was getting _really_ aggressive with a punching bag.

His stomach lurched.

He couldn’t leave things like this, couldn’t just _ignore_ her. So he walked over to her and stopped a few feet away.

She didn’t stop. Didn’t even look up.

“Darce,” he finally said, regretting it as he heard the pleading tone in his voice. “Darcy,” he tried again, “I’m so…”

“Don’t,” she said shortly, finally pausing, stilling the bag, and looking up at him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He was somewhat stunned by her flat refusal, “but I…” he tried again.

“Steve,” she was pleading with him, and he finally noticed that her eyes were welling up with unshed tears, “Can we just…can we just forget it? Can we go back to the way things were?”

He let out a heavy breath, “Yeah.” He said finally, “Yeah we can do that.”

Her answering smile was watery and weak, but at least she was smiling. “You should go say hi to the Major,” she said finally, before turning back to the bag.

The major, it turned out, was watching him carefully already as he approached.

“Steven,” he called out in a booming voice, “good to see you son.”

He tried to smile at the older man, “Morning Major.”

“Give me a minute of your time, will you?” he said, pulling Steve over to the far corner of the gym with a grin. Steve followed obediently.

“Listen,” the jovial tone was instantly gone and Steve snapped his eyes up in surprise. “I don’t know what’s between you and Darcy and I _definitely_ don’t want any details.” He said in a very serious tone, “but don’t you let that girl push you away,” he said, “lord knows she’ll try.” His mouth twisted in a wry grin, “Now I don’t really care what it is you _actually_ do,” Steve winced. He hadn’t been sure that the old covert ops phrase he had dropped the night before would still work, but at the time he had been so relieved to drop the conversation about his military background, even if it meant that the General now knew he wasn’t _exactly_ out of the military. Now, though, he sincerely regretted not just stumbling through some lies about ranks and units, “But I want her safe and protected and _happy_ Rogers. And I haven’t seen her relax around another man like she does around you since her brother died.”

He seemed like he was finished, but all Steve could do for a long moment was blink in surprise.

“Sir,” he began carefully, “I can promise you I’ll always keep my eye out for her, but anything more than that well…” he paused and took a breath, “It’s her choice, and it seems like she’s made it.”

“Well,” the Major harrumphed and crossed his arms, “She made the wrong one.” And he turned on his heels and walked back towards Darcy.

Steve didn’t know whether to feel better or worse.

+

+

He tried, he really did. He forced himself to stick to the same gym schedule he always had, which meant he saw her every day. And he put on a smile and critiqued her form and made a joke every now and then, but it just wasn’t the same.

They didn’t meet on weekends any more to run around the city like idiots, jumping off of whatever they could find. He wasn’t allowed to do things like toss her over a wall. He was strictly hands off these days. When he even so much as brushed up against her at the gym, she stiffened and moved away.

There were no more movie nights, no more detailed plans for the zombie apocalypse. The best he got was a book or DVD, which he watched on his own. It wasn’t nearly as fun.

And he just couldn’t do it. Natasha was starting to glare at him at team practice, and even Tony was noticing that he was pre-occupied.

He didn’t need Natasha to tell him that he had to do something about this. She had, in fact, pretty much already told him what he needed to do. Option two hadn’t worked, he had tried to show her how he felt and she pretty clearly got the message, and just as clearly didn’t want what he was offering.

The thought of distancing himself from her, _getting over_ her when he had only just realised how much there was there to get over, had seemed completely impossible when Natasha had first suggested it. But it was hurting more and more to be around her every day, and the short and final pain of drawing a line was starting to seem a whole lot better than this drawn out misery of pretending like they could go back.

+

+

It was after 10 and Darcy was just about ready for bed when the doorbell rang. She grumbled irritably to herself as she went to see who could _possibly_ be coming by this late. If Jane had lost her keys again…

It wasn’t Jane. It was Steve.

She swallowed heavily and paused. The constant nervous churning in her gut whenever he was around hitting her in an instant. But they were _friends,_ or at least pretending, so she opened the door.

“Steve,” she said with a smile that probably looked incredibly fake, “What’s up?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I know it’s late.” He didn’t sound too good. He didn’t _look_ too good come to that. Worry was quickly trumping discomfort.

“Don’t worry about it,” she dismissed, “Are you okay?”

“I’m not, actually,” he said, looking at his feet.

“What happened?” she could hear panic creeping into her voice, but this was _Captain America_ and the scale of shit that he could be involved in was really epic. “Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”

“It’s not that,” he said, still refusing to meet her gaze. The queasy feeling in her gut was starting to creep back.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked hesitantly.

He shook his head.

There was a long expectant pause before he spoke again.

“I just came to tell you that I’m…that I can’t…” he stumbled and paused. “We’re not friends,” he said finally. “We used to be, but we’re not anymore. And I know I messed it up, and I know it’s all my fault, but I still can’t keep doing this.”

She felt like the bottom had dropped out of the earth and she was in freefall.

“Can’t keep doing _what_?” she half whispered.

“Pretending like things are okay, pretending that this is _normal,_ that I don’t…” he trailed off with a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t do it anymore Darcy,” he said, his voice firmer now, “It’s too hard. I can’t stop feeling the way I feel and I’m never going to get over it if you’re here in my life every day making me love you.”

He was looking somewhere over her left shoulder, face stoic, refusing to meet her gaze.

“Don’t,” the word ripped itself out of her throat. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling right now, but she knew that the thought of going through life without Steve was _awful_ “Please don’t do this.”

He finally looked at her, and for once she couldn’t read his expression, but it caught her breath.

“I’m so sorry,” was all he said though, and then he dropped his gaze again and turned his back to her and walked down the hall.

She stood there and watched him go the whole way.

He didn’t look back.

+

+

Sal was not happy with him. He didn’t like facing the older man’s disapproval, but there was no way he was going to be in the gym at the same time as Darcy after what he had said to her. He wasn’t going to explain it to Sal, but he had a feeling that he sort of had an idea anyways, because while he gave a lot of flak, Sal also was really understanding about letting him know when Darcy was in the gym and when it was safe.

It wasn’t exactly helping though. Days were turning into weeks and the ache of missing her didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Natasha, goddam her crazy perceptive spy skills, just told him to give it time.

It didn’t hurt, though, to have another way to work out his pent up frustration, so he was almost relieved when the Avengers where called in to deal with a situation up town.

The situation, it turned out, was robots.

“Does anyone else miss the days of incompetent hired guns,” grunted Natasha over the coms as she picked up a piece of fallen metal pipe and smashed the head of one of the approaching monstrosities.

“Every god damned day,” an arrow came in from high above them taking out two of the things with a clean shot through their vulnerable visual ports.

“Alright,” Steve was happy to lose himself in the job for a little while, “enough chatter, Hawkeye keep up the cover fire, Stark see if you can trace these goddam things to whoever is controlling them, Widow, we’re on the ground getting the civilians out of harm’s way.”

What a time for both Bruce _and_ Thor to be out of town. The Hulk particularly, Steve thought as he whipped his shield at a group of robots, would really have enjoyed smashing these things.

There were an unfortunate number of people out and about on the street when the fighting broke out. Many had run for cover inside buildings, but there were a few groups trapped outside, their exits blocked by machines that were shooting to kill.

“Widow, you head east, see if you can get those people somewhere safe, I’m going to head for that group up the block.”

Natasha nodded and sprinted off, both guns drawn and firing with truly impressive accuracy as she went.

As Steve drew closer to the group of civilians he had spotted, blocked between a fallen car, a chunk of upturned concrete, and a group of the robots, he could see that they, at least, were somewhat organised. They had taken cover behind some of the debris and were hurling things at the oncoming machines. He could see a kid, maybe 14, clearly just come from a baseball game, cracking pieces of rubble at the things with surprising accuracy. He got one straight in the visual sensor and it just stopped in its tracks.

He ran for the group, blocking fire with his shield.

“That’s a hell of a swing you’ve got there son,” he said to the kid. And then he noticed with a gut dropping suddenness that the woman who had been lobbing up bits of concrete and metal for him to hit, who had been half obscured until he got close, was Darcy.

She was looking up at him in surprise. He had been so successful in avoiding her for the last few weeks that seeing her this close felt like a knife in the gut. He wanted to run away, wanted to pull her to him and never let her go, wanted to just say fuck it to the other civilians and the robots and drag her somewhere safe.

He gave his head an internal shake and forced himself to focus on the job.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen,” he said in what he hoped was a calm tone, “let’s get you inside shall we?”

Just then he heard a grinding clank coming from behind him and he turned with a sinking feeling. About 20 more of the things had rolled up beside the few that had already been there. Apparently they didn’t like it when civilians were taking them out.

Tony came over the com with a crackle. “Heya Cap, I’ve got some good news and some bad news.”

“Just tell me Stark,” he said impatiently.

“Well, the good news is that these things are being remotely powered from the city grid. Very cool tech. It also means we can probably take ‘em out just by throwing the breaker and overloading the SOBs. It’s not even hard. You see a grey metal box anywhere near you cap? Bout as big as two mailboxes, probably has a lightning bolt on the front.”

He peered down the street and saw what he thought Tony was describing not 300 meters past the line of robots.

“Yeah I see one,” he said dubiously.

“Well, all you gotta do is get in there and throw the big red switch.”

“What’s the bad news,” he asked warily

“I’m kind stuck in some giant robot crushing claws and _really_ need you to do this _now_ , like in the next 60 seconds.”

He looked up at the line of robots bearing down on them, their fire coming faster now as he struggled to block it. No way he could get all of the civilians _and Darcy_ to safety, get past those things and flip the switch in 60 seconds.

“Kinda pinned down with some civilians at the moment,” he said, “Tasha?”

Her com crackled, “Too far,” her voice was strained. They heard a dim explosion over the com and a rain of gunfire, “and I’m a _bit busy_.”

A hand was on his arm. It was Darcy.

“I can do it,” she said, her face firm and determined. “If you can get me through the line, I can do it. Get into the box, throw the switch right?”

She must have been closer than he thought to hear all that.

He looked down at her, the very thought of it bringing his heart up into his throat at the same time as he was impressed all over again by her strength of character, but he kept his voice carefully neutral. “That’s real brave of you ma’am, but it’s too dangerous.”

She let out a noise of exasperation, “Steve, I can _do_ this, you know I can.”

He just about dropped his shield. Did she just call him _Steve_? She was looking at him with a very familiar exasperated expression; arms crossed and chin jutting out as she glared at him. She knew. She knew who he was. He could hardly think.

“Jesus Christ Cap whoever the hell that is just let her _do it_.” Tony’s voice came blaring out of his earpiece. He did not sound like he was in good shape. It snapped him out of his frozen shock.

He looked back at the group of civilians behind them, most of them just kids. He looked forward at the terrain she would have to cover. If she could edge by the line-up and avoid any other of the machines, yeah, she could do it. Those were some big and terrifying ifs. But it wasn’t like he had any other options open to him.

He was going to have to analyse how the _hell_ she knew it was him another time. And maybe talk to her about throwing herself into situation where he would have to send her out into danger.

“Jesus _fuck_ ” he swore softly, because it felt appropriate. “Okay,” he took a breath, “okay.”

He ran to the overturned car and ripped off the closest door, it felt like a familiar move, he would be okay with this.

He gave Darcy his shield.

“This’ll stop anything that’s shooting at you, just put it in the way okay?” she nodded, eyes wide as she looked at the shield on her arm.

“No heroics, don’t worry about taking any of them out, I’ll run you around the line, then you go as _fast_ as you can and you run for cover the _minute_ you’re done, okay?” He gripped her arms and stared into her eyes, willing her to just this _once_ take an order.

“Got it,” she said firmly.

He wanted to say something. But, as usual, he was always better at doing than saying.

He cupped his hands around her face, roughly threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her mouth to his. She was momentarily frozen in shock, and he almost pulled away, but then her mouth opened under his and her hand was gripping his arm, and she was straining on her toes to push _closer_ as he licked into her mouth with a groan.

“Okay,” he said with a gasp, roughly dragging his lips away, and then, before she had time to say anything, and perhaps more importantly before he had time to think about the fact the she was _kissing him back_ “Let’s go.”

He ran, pulling her beside him and forcibly shoving the part of his brain that was asking him just what the _hell_ he was thinking aside, his makeshift shield between them and the line of machines. They started taking heavy fire as they approached, but he just hollered in her ear over the noise “shield up” pushed her sideways, and took a running leap at the closest metal monstrosity, bringing the car door crashing down on its head.

He willed himself not to look back at her as he crashed his way through one after the other of the things and began running the stranded civilians to the closest building, but he caught sight of her sailing over a block of rubble, her feet hitting the ground smoothly as she kept running.

And then he heard Clint, from high above them whistle.

“Who _is_ that?” he asked, although Steve was sure he knew no one was going to stop to answer. And then “Is that _Darcy?!?!_ ”

Just then, all the fighting stopped as the things whirred to a halt, power source cut.

There was a lingering moment, where everything was suspended while everyone waited for things to not be that simple, but Tony had been right. The things were non-functioning heaps of metal now.

Steve let out a breath. Not two seconds after glancing back to make sure the group of civilians behind him was alright, he sprinted for Darcy.

He found her sitting on the curb, his shield propped up in front of her, looking shell shocked and dirty, but otherwise fine.

“Going offline,” he said abruptly into the coms, and then ripped the thing out of his ear.

He sat beside her carefully, peeling off his cowl. The damage, apparently, had already been done. But he didn’t know what to say know. All of the tension and fear that had led him to kiss her like that was bleeding out of him with the adrenaline, and now he was going to have to face the consequences.

“Hi,” was all he could think of to say.

Darcy let out a hysterical little laugh.

“Hi,” she said back.

“So,” he began awkwardly, figuring that honestly was probably the best policy “I have no idea what to say.”

“Yeah,” agreed Darcy, “This is an odd situation for sure.”

“You were incredible,” he tried, because that was honest too “they’ll probably try to give you the key to the city.”

She grimaced, “god I hope not.”

There was another long pause.

“How long have you known,” he finally asked, looking down. He didn’t know what she must be thinking, but he was pretty sure he didn’t want to see it on her face.

“You know that night with the bilgesnipes and Lonny’s fight?” she asked.

He nodded despondently. That was _weeks_ ago. How could she have known for that long …?

“Well, the scientist I work for is Jane Foster, and those things were 100% Asgardian. So I was down in the labs the next morning listening to a lot of garbage about trans dimensional migration patterns.”

“The labs?” Steve asked weakly, because he could see directly where this was going.

“Yep, that same place where you go for your science debriefs and where someone like Maria Hill is liable to call you ‘Captain’ when _I_ was just thinking ‘what the hell is Steve doing here.’”

“Oh,” he said finally.

“Yeah,” she said, an edge of anger in her voice, “It was a bit of a shock. Steve, _how_ could you not have told me?”

He sighed heavily, dropping his head into his hands, “A lot of it is because it’s really not safe for people to know who I am,” he started slowly, “and then there’s the part where I used to get to be just… _me_ when I was with you.” He trailed off, knowing that she wasn’t going to let him get away with the easy explanations.

“I _get_ that part of it, I’m not stupid. But neither are you Steve. You _know_ that you’d always be Steve first to me, and you _know about my brother_.” The worse were harsh and sibilant, cut out from behind clenched teeth. “How could you try and kiss me when you _knew_ how I felt about what you did.”

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “That was stupid,” he could freely admit that now, “but I didn’t know…I didn’t know if you’d even want that…with me. I guess I was hoping that I could figure that out first and deal with the other stuff later.”

She let out a little breath and the tension in her shoulders relaxed an inch or two.

“That was stupid,” she agreed, but she sounded closer to tired than angry now. “And I hate that you lied to me, even if it was by omission.”

Something clicked into place.

“So, when I called you that night…you knew?” he felt a new wave of awkwardness and embarrassment wash over him. That call had not gone well on a number of levels. And now he knew, at least partly, why.

She nodded.

“Oh,” he wanted to ask her what she would have said if she hadn’t known, what she thought _now_. If she had even known that he was trying to tell her he wanted more than friendship from her, or if she hadn’t suspected until he had tried to kiss her In front of her door like an over eager kid on his first date. But all he could think of to say instead was “I’m sorry I kissed you.”

“It’s okay,” she said with a tiny little smile, “It was a pretty amazing kiss.”

Steve blew out a breath, because _yeah_ it was, but that was kind of a confusing response from her. Wasn’t she pretty clearly _not_ interested in kissing him? Isn’t that why he had torn himself away?

“Look,” she was twisting her fingers through the leather straps on his shield nervously, “it’s not that I haven’t thought about…about us.”

Steve felt like he was paying attention to her with his whole body, his skin tense and vibrating with her nearness, but he kept his gaze averted and let her talk.

“And Steve Rogers…well, maybe that would have been…but Captain America?” her voice broke like she was holding back a sob. “I want to be friends with you Steve, I _do_ but the idea of falling for a guy who goes out and does this stuff” she gestured at the wreckage all around them. “It’s terrifying.” She wiped hastily at the tears building up in her eyes.

“Darcy,” he couldn’t help reaching out to her. This was new information, and he didn’t know how to process it. All he knew was that she sounded so lost and hurt and despite the fact that he was the one who had wanted to put distance between them, he needed her to be close. She leaned into him immediately, pressing her face against his shoulder as he stroked her hair. “I never wanted to lie to you,” he said finally.

“I know,” her voice was muffled and damp. “You can’t help who you are. It’s just,” she paused, her breath hitching against him, “I watched Jim’s fiancé lower him into the ground Steve. I _can’t_ , I just can’t.”

He sat there for a long while, his hand running across her back as she sobbed into his shoulder.

It didn’t change anything, not really. Part of him wanted to latch onto the thought that she wouldn’t be hurting like this if she didn’t feel _something_ for him, or the way her voice had softened when she had said ‘Steve Rogers’ like it might have been so easy if he wasn’t… He sighed.

The truth was, he still couldn’t be just a friend for her, and she still couldn’t be anything more for him, but at least they both knew it now. Even if the weight of it was settling heavy on his shoulders, even as he held her in his arms.

It was Natasha, thankfully, that found them first. She just gave Steve a sympathetic look and tucked her arm around Darcy’s waist, pulling her to her feet.

“Come on, little hero,” she said, wiping a tear of Darcy’s cheek with her thumb, “There’s a lot of people who want to thank you. One of ‘ems Tony Stark, so I’d make a list of all the most ridiculously expensive things that you want.”

He heard Darcy laugh wetly as they walked away. When he picked up his shield, it was still warm from her arm.

 


	8. Chapter 8

“You ready for this?” Clint was standing in the doorway of the medical suite at SHIELD, still in uniform.

She pulled the edges of the blanket that one of the SHIELD physicians had kindly wrapped around her a bit closer.

“As I’ll ever be, I suppose,” she said lamely.

Clint looked over to the med techs, “Is she cleared?”

“She’s good to go Agent Barton,” the woman looking at the computer read outs said, “nothing but a few bruises and a minor shoulder strain. And that’s from the Captain’s shield being way too heavy for anyone else to sling around,” she looked back at Darcy with a grin, “even someone as tough as you.”

Darcy smiled weakly. She’d been getting a lot of rather surprised and impressed comments from the SHIELD agents. All she could think was that they must have a very low opinion of the real world capabilities of their science staff. I mean, they weren’t generally _wrong,_ but still…

Also, she _really_ wasn’t looking forward to sitting through the entire debrief with Steve. The thought of being near him was making her feel nauseous. She supposed that wasn’t exactly a flattering idea, but the memory of his kiss was still really fresh and it was warring it out with the memory of a folded flag being placed in her mother’s hands, being passed to Karen. It didn’t exactly make for a settled stomach.

“Come on super kid,” Clint said encouragingly, hoisting her bodily upwards with an arm around her waist, “now you get to see exactly how much paperwork being a super hero involves.”

“You know,” said Darcy sourly, “I never actually _said_ I wanted to learn anything about that. In fact, I distinctly recall that I _only_ asked to observe how you guys get in and out of those Kevlar suits.”

Clint laughed, “Who knows.” He said giving her a gentle squeeze, “maybe the debriefing room will be _really_ hot and layers will have to come off.”

It should have been funny, but her brain immediately jumped to the image of Steve peeling off his uniform, which was _way_ too appealing to deal with right now. She had never had this problem before.

Of course, _before,_ Steve hadn’t kissed her with a passion that she felt straight down to her toes, but still. God _damn_ him for being actual real life Captain America instead of just her _Steve._

Well, she supposed with a stomach dropping lurch as she walked into the already full meeting room, he wasn’t really _her_ Steve anymore, was he? He was sitting as far away from the last empty chairs as he could, looking resolutely out the window when she walked in.

She got it, she did. She had just finished telling him that she couldn’t give him what he wanted from her, so she could understand why he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be in the same room. But it still hurt. It hurt in a way that didn’t feel _right_ at all.

The room got very quiet when Agent Coulson walked in. She couldn’t forget that he was the dude who stole her iPod, but everyone else had a staggering level of respect for the man, and he did, apparently, survive getting stabbed in the chest by Loki, so she listened to him quietly when he spoke.

“I would like,” he said coolly, “for someone to explain to me the exact chain of events that led to one of our science associates saving the collective asses of the earth’s mightiest heroes?”

He didn’t sound disappointed, or even look it, but it just radiated off him in waves, and even Natasha slumped in her seat by a few millimetres.

“To be fair,” Tony interjected gamely, “there were a _lot_ of robots.”

Agent Coulson did not look impressed.

“It was my call, Sir,” said Steve stiffly from across the table. “Stark had come up with the plan, but couldn’t execute. He had about a minute before he was going to go from trapped to dead. Natasha had her hands full where she was, Hawkeye was 45 stories away, and I had a group of civilians and a line-up of 20 plus of the things to deal with. I would have had to leave the civilians to get the job done. I know Ms. Lewis’s capabilities; I knew she could do it. I had an option that didn’t involve leaving civilians to die, so I took it.”

He was still looking resolutely away from her.

“Interesting,” Agent Coulson _did_ sound a bit disappointed now, “because from my perspective you just traded one civilian life for others.”

“Sir,” Steve started to grind out through a clenched jaw, but this was one fight Darcy could handle on her own.

“Hey,” she interjected in a brittle tone, “I’m not exactly _just_ a civilian and you know that perfectly goddam well Agent iPod jacker. I’ve had the basic SHIELD training just like every other science flunky. So that right there makes me a better option than those scared kids I was with. _Plus,_ Steve didn’t send me out; I told him I was going. He didn’t like the idea any more than you did, probably _less_ really. But he knows me a hell of a lot better than the rest of you and he knows that I am a perfectly goddam capable adult so we _got the job done_. Now will you back up off their asses for five seconds and _thank_ them for saving the city? _Jesus_!”

Agent Coulson looked nonplussed, which Darcy counted as a _huge_ victory. It felt really good to vent her emotions for a minute. Because seriously, did these people have to come back to this sort of second guessing _every_ time they saved the world? She risked a glance at Steve. He looked like he was trying to hide a smile. But he still wasn’t looking at her. Same old pain fest then.

Finally, Coulson spoke. “That’s a fair assessment Lewis,” he said calmly, “Captain,” he turned to Steve, “You clearly had a better handle on Miss Lewis’s abilities than I did. It was a good call.” He cleared his throat briefly, “and I’m sure you all know that SHIELD is very grateful for your continued commitment to the safety of the city.”

There was a silence and then Clint, the little shit, gave his biggest shit eating grin, “SHIELD is _more_ than welcome,” he said in a gleefully superior tone, “you may proceed with the debrief Coulson.” The corner of Natasha’s mouth twitched and Tony actually let out a loud guffaw, but Steve was just looking at the table. Coulson raised an eyebrow, but moved forward.

“Miss Lewis, I’ve heard from the others, but if you wouldn’t mind running through the events from your perspective, that would be most helpful.”

“Oh, right.” She said hesitantly. She hadn’t exactly been looking forward to this part. “So, I was out sort of just walking around the city,” she started, she didn’t think that they really needed to know that she had been walking as far and as fast as she could to try and outpace the miserable feelings that were creeping up on her every time she thought of Steve’s face that night when he came to her door, or exactly _why_ she had been dreaming about running after him down the hall.

“And it all happened pretty quickly. Those robot things just started pouring up from the closest subway entrance and they set off a bunch of explosives. I was pretty close I guess, because I got tossed to the ground, and when the dust cleared, the pavement was all torn up and there were flipped cars everywhere and I couldn’t see a way to get off the street that didn’t involve getting through those weirdo machines.” She was trying to keep her voice steady, but the memory of that blind panic when she realised there was _no way out_ was kind of sticking to her.

“There were a few others caught out the same way I was, maybe 10 or so, so I started yelling at them to get behind this car I was pretty close to, because, you know, find cover is rule number one, right? And we were doing okay for a bit. There was this kid, Roger Marks; seriously, you guys should look him up when he gets out of school. He had just come from a baseball game. We saw you,” she gestured to Clint, “take a couple out through the eye thingy, so Roger is all cool as a cucumber and is like ‘I’ve got my bat, I bet I can take out a few of them’ and so I started tossing stuff up for him. I think he actually got a few.”

“He did,” interjected Steve quietly, “I saw it.” He was looking at her now, but the _way_ he was looking…well, it wasn’t exactly _better_.

“Right,” she went on shakily, “That’s when St…uh, the Captain showed up.” It was going to be easier to get through this if she focused on the uniform and not the man inside it.

“I was pretty close, so I heard him talking to Mr. Stark over the earpiece thing, and I could see the power box he was talking about. Probably only 300 meters or so away. It wasn’t like I was jumping at the chance to run out there with those things, but I heard Mr. Stark and Natasha say they couldn’t get there and I figured Barton was not exactly going to be close by, and the Captain all of a sudden had, like, a million of those things to deal with and a bunch of civilians, so I said I’d do it.”

Talking about it, it did sound kind of nuts. At the time, there had simply been no other options but now, _Christ_ what had she been thinking? She could see a very similar type of expression painted across Steve’s face, like he was reliving the moment, except he had been scared the first time too, and then he had…she ducked her head and willed herself not to blush.

Natasha Romanov was watching her with a very frightening level of intensity. She was pretty sure that she wasn’t hiding a _damn_ thing from the black Widow, but not _everyone_ needed to know about that toe melting but ultimately ill-fated kiss.

Coulson nodded, “Right,” he said, “So you just ran for it?”

“Are you kidding?” Darcy squeaked, “No way! There was like a billion _robots_ between me and the power box. The Captain took me around the end of the line, safe as houses, and _then_ I ran for it.”

“And you managed to avoid taking any fire the whole way?” Coulson asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Well, not exactly, the Captain lent me his shield.”

There was a short but loaded silence.

“Really?” The tone was pretty neutral, but Coulson’s left eyebrow looked like it was going to crawl right up into his hairline and he was looking at Steve in what could _almost_ be called surprise.

“Yeah,” she said, trying to be casually dismissive, but now that she thought about it, how many people could say they had wielded Captain America’s shield in battle? It was probably a _really_ small group. Steve was looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“It was heavy,” she added almost as an afterthought.

Coulson refocused on her, “so you got past the line of hostiles,” he prompted.

“Right,” she got back on track, “When I made it,” she went on, “I just sort of hacked at the lock with the shield,” both Steve and Coulson winced at that, “until it popped open, and then when I threw the switch everything just…stopped.”

“I found her shortly after that,” said Steve briskly, “made sure she was okay, and then Natasha joined us and we headed in to HQ.” He glossed neatly over their incredibly awkward and heartbreaking conversation.

“That’s everything that happened?” Coulson asked her

”That’s everything that happened” she agreed firmly.

“Alright, then I think you have all earned some time off.”

There was an awkward moment when she and Steve both got to the door at the same time. He stood back to let her go ahead and she thought she saw Clint and Natasha have some sort of intense eyebrow conversations.

Her suspicion was confirmed when Natasha guided Steve firmly down the hallway in one direction, while Clint slung an arm around her and tugged her in the other.

“Let me buy you a drink, kid” he said cheerfully.

“I don’t really feel like drinking,” she said firmly. Getting drunk and maudlin about Steve in front of Hawkeye just seemed like a bad idea.

“Well then tell me what the hell you did to make Captain America look at you like you kicked his puppy.”

Darcy sighed, “That’s what Natasha was telling you to do with the eyebrow dance, wasn’t it?”

“Yup,” Clint agreed easily. “You’re far more likely to give us the info than Steve is.”

“I don’t suppose you could just go back to Natasha and say I wouldn’t talk, could you?”

“Fraid not kiddo,” he said, “because whatever it is, it is really messing with our team leader, and we need to get it fixed.”

“I never meant for Steve to get hurt,” she said finally in a small voice. “I just can’t be Captain America’s girlfriend.”

“Oh Darce,” Clint stopped walking, “you didn’t tell _him_ that, did you?”

“I did, yeah,” she was looking straight at her feet, unwilling to look up at him.

Clint blew out a breath, “so basically you told Steve Rogers, the guy who’s the hardest on himself probably in the _universe_ that basically the most awesome world saving things about him are why you won’t _date_ him?”

Darcy nodded. It sounded kind of awful when he put it like that, but it was still true.

“Jesus Darce, that’s pretty harsh.”

“Any harsher that pretending I could deal with it and then cutting and running after letting him get attached?”

Clint paused. “Well you do have a point there, Lewis. I just don’t see what’s so wrong with being Captain America’s girlfriend. Isn’t that, like, the American dream?”

“It’s not even really the girlfriend part,” she said, avoiding his eyes, “it’s that being his girlfriend leads pretty directly to being his widow.”

Clint opened his mouth to protest, but Darcy held up her hand “I know he’s not exactly as breakable as other people, but do you _honestly_ think that Steve, or _any_ of you, are going to die at home in your beds rather than out in the field?”

Clint shut his mouth abruptly. After a moment, he spoke again.

“We’re not going to push you Darce, we never would. But just, don’t give up on him just yet. Even if you’re right, isn’t it possible that some good things are worth the bad shit that comes with ‘em?”

She didn’t answer, but Clint waited with her quietly anyway as he hailed a cab for her and pushed her in with a sympathetic smile, telling her to get some rest.

+

+

She did try, but her shoulder was sore and adrenaline was still zinging through her bloodstream, and the look on Steve’s face from behind his cowl when she had said his name and the way he had kissed her were twisting her stomach into knots.

She picked up her phone and dialed a number that she had been avoiding for far too long.

“Hello?” the bright feminine voice picked up on the second ring and Darcy couldn’t tell whether she was relieved or disappointed.

“Hi Karen,” she said in a bit of a strangled tone.

“Darcy? Is that you?” Karen’s voice had immediately clicked into her worried tone, “Is everything okay.”

“No,” she gulped out through a half sob, “Everything is terrible.”

When Jim had first started dating Karen, Darcy had been polite to her, like she had been to all of his dates. When he had started getting really serious about her, Darcy had been downright cold to the woman who she thought was going to ruin her relationship with her brother. When she had finally gotten over herself and really got to know Karen, she had gained a sister. Nothing could change that. Not losing Jim, and not avoiding talking to the one person who could really understand what she was going through for far too long.

“Oh Darce,” Karen said kindly, “You want to talk about it? Is this about Steve?”

Darcy had to let out a damp chuckle, “been talking to the Major?”

“He would _not_ shut up about that guy when he got home.” Karen paused for a moment, “but he also said that Steve was probably involved in something kind of big, and you were keeping your distance.”

Darcy sighed. “I should really stop being surprised at how much Dad knows.”

“He apparently called up some friend at Langley and asked about the guy. He said he’d never been stonewalled so fast by people so important in his life. Sounds kind of…intense Darce.”

“Yeah,” she agreed morosely, “you could say that again.” She wished that she could tell Karen the whole story, but it really wasn’t hers to tell. “I can’t really talk about that part of it, but he’s…well, it’s not exactly safe, what he does.”

“Oh,” said Karenslowly, “so that’s why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I’m sorry Karen; I didn’t mean to…I just can’t stop thinking about him, about what you went through, what we _all_ went through. Steve is…god, he’s incredible,” it felt good to say that out loud to someone, “but I can’t do it. I couldn’t…” she wasn’t really sure who she was trying to convince at this point, Karen or herself.

“Darce,” Karen interrupted her, her own voice sounding a bit shaky, “When we got the news about Jim, I… I thought I would die right along with him. It was awful. It still _is_ awful, every time I think about it.”

“That’s not exactly comforting Karen,” Darcy sniffed.

“Let me finish,” Karen said, and Darcy could almost _see_ her patient smile, “But even though it hurts, and it’s hard to move on, I wouldn’t trade a single _second_ of it. I count it as a fair trade for getting to spend a few years with him.”

“Really?” Darcy found it hard to believe, but she could hear the conviction in Karen’s voice.

“Really,” she repeated reassuringly. “This Steve guy, you love him?”

She paused for a moment, “Yeah,” she said finally with a surprised little laugh, “Yeah I think I do.” And despite the seriousness of the conversation, she felt a little thrill of giddiness burbling up in her at the thought.

“But Jim has made you afraid to lose him?”

“Yeah,” she sighed.

“Well firstly, Jim would smack you upside the head for letting his memory stop you from going after a man you’re in love with and who is, by all accounts, so amazing that even the Major wants you to go for it.”

Darcy had to grin at Karen’s no nonsense tone, because she was 100% right about that.

“And secondly, haven’t you pretty much already lost him without getting to experience any of the good stuff?”

It was said kindly and it was kindly meant, but it hit her right in the gut, with much more force than when Clint had said essentially the same thing. Probably because coming from Karen, it wasn’t just an empty platitude. She had loved Jim, and lost him, and was honestly telling her that it really was worth it.

And the loss of Steve had been sitting on her, pressing her downwards and making her miserable already for weeks. If she was going to have to feel the bad stuff, shouldn’t she get some of the good stuff too?

She thought again about the way he had pulled her against him, smelling of gunpowder and grime, his kiss sure and confident and earth shaking in its passion.

There was some damn good stuff to be had from Steve Rogers.

“I really should have called you sooner,” Darcy laughed, still blinking back tears, but with a slow smile building on her face now.

“I don’t know,” Karen replied, considering, “you probably knew exactly what I was going to tell you. Why _did_ you call me now?”

Darcy let out a long breath. “Guess I was waiting until I was ready to hear it.”

“And you feel like you’re ready to make the leap for this guy?”

“Yeah,” she let out with an incredulous lightness that she could feel down to her toes. “Yeah, I really think I am.”

“Good,” Karen’s voice was firm. “Also, I want a full recap of exactly what happens when you get your nerve up and go tell this Steven fellow that you’ve come to your senses.”

Darcy laughed, “I’ll even let you know before I call the Major, so you can lord it over him the next time you’re over there for dinner.”

“See, I _knew_ there was a reason I liked you best,” Karen said, “now stop wasting time and go get your man.” There was a little bit of melancholy to her tone, but Darcy could hear the genuine happiness now as well, and she wondered how she had missed that for so long. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

+

+

Steve was drinking. He knew perfectly well that it wasn’t going to do anything, but the harsh burn of the whisky seemed appropriate to his mood as he sat at his kitchen table and gave in to just letting himself fell miserable for a little while.

He couldn’t regret kissing her, not even though it made him crave a million more, not even though he would never have another. There had been a chilling finality to leaving the briefing room, knowing that she knew who he was, what he did, and that she wanted to be very far away from it.

He had entertained a secret hope, still, that somehow finding out who he really was would _help_. That maybe the whole laminated list thing would have an effect, or that she would feel better knowing that he wasn’t as breakable as everyone else. The way she had jumped into the fray today had made his breath come short and his heart leap up into his throat, but he had hoped she would see that if he could keep her safe, if she could be a part of what he did for a moment, maybe she would see that he could _do_ this. This was what he was _built_ to do. He could protect her, she could protect herself.

But even as she was pressed up warm again his side, the hitch in her breath and the finality of her tone when she said “I _can’t_ ” killed every last one of his lingering dreams and it was all he could do to make it through that briefing without screaming about the injustice of it all or just getting the hell out of there.

Natasha had tried to talk to him after, but he had brushed her aside and headed home as fast as he could. He probably owed her an apology, but right now all he wanted to do was sit and let himself be sad.

Of course, the universe wasn’t done ignoring what he wanted today. There was a knock at the door. He wanted to yell at whoever it was to go away, he wanted to pretend he wasn’t there. But some things were just too far ingrained, so he walked to the door and opened it roughly.

He froze, hand on the doorknob and mouth open.

“Hi,” Darcy’s voice was small and she still looked a bit disheveled, like she hadn’t done much more than throw on a change of clothes since she got home. There was a streak of soot across her left temple. She looked gut wrenchingly beautiful to him.

“What…” he couldn’t finish the sentence. And he supposed he must have looked pretty stunned.

She bit her lip, her eyes downcast, refusing to look up at him, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to…I just…I have some things I need to say to you, if that’s okay?”

He tried to keep his face calm as he was warring within himself. Because the _last_ thing he wanted was for her to carefully and kindly explain to him more about how he could never have what he wanted. But it was _Darcy_ and he might never have a moment alone with her again.

He let out a heavy sigh.

“Do you want to come in?” It was tentative and not exactly welcoming, but she nodded anyways and slipped through the door.

He stood where he was, arms crossed, looking at her expectantly as she nervously perched on the back of his sofa, picking at the fabric and avoiding his gaze.

“Today was scary,” she said finally.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed brusquely, because he could still feel the terror of looking down at Darcy and knowing that sending her out into the field was his only option. He could sort of understand, if grudgingly, why she didn’t want that to be her life.

“It made me think about some things.” She went on.

Steve could feel himself freeze up, muscles locked. “What things?” he asked tentatively, refusing to allow himself to hope any more.

“Jim,” she said simply. “I talked to Karen, his fiancée.”

“Oh,” he said finally when her pause had dragged out for an uncomfortably long time.

“It made me think about how I missed him, but also…” she paused and drew a breath. He could see her knuckles turning white where she gripped the back of the sofa. “It hurts that he’s gone, but I wouldn’t have traded it. I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else for a brother, anyone less brave,” she sounded like she was on a roll now, “And it made me start thinking about you, you know, and how I _did_ try to trade it, tried to stop feeling the way I feel and protect myself, but it’s not really protection if it means I’ve lost you before we even tried. I don’t feel protected, I don’t feel safe. I feel miserable. I _miss_ you Steve, and I know I’ve been awful to you and you have every right to just kick me out of here, but I just wanted to…to explain.” There were tears welling up in her eyes and she sounded a little breathless by the end of it.

There were a lot of words that were said, and a lot of information that was making his head spin, but one piece of it had grabbed him like a magnet and he couldn’t let it go.

“The way you feel?” he finally choked out. He took a steadying breath, trying to wrap his head around what was going on and come up with a more coherent response. “I mean…I miss you too…and I’m sorry you…I would never just…” he stumbled over his words and took a step closer to her, “but, the way you feel?”

He could feel that fluttery hopeful feeling rising up in him again as he saw her old easy smile pulling at the corner of her lips.

“Yeah,” she reached out tentatively and took his hand, “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you Steve, and maybe that’s kind of scary but I know you’re pretty tough and you’ve got a team and I’m not going to stop being afraid for you just because I’m not with you and not being with you _sucks_ so I…”

She couldn’t finish her rambling sentence because Steve couldn’t hold himself back for one single second longer. He was almost unaware of how it happened, but his hands were in her hair and his hips were pressed against her, and he was kissing her again, when he thought he’d never get the chance.

It was better, he though distractedly, as her mouth opened readily under his and her arms twined around his waist, when he wasn’t about to send her into extreme danger. He could take his time, find out exactly what had drawn that hitching little noise from her as he explored her mouth, as his hand cradled the column of her neck, traced the outline of her face.

When they finally parted, it was more for lack of air then any real desire to stop.         

“Wow,” she finally said breathlessly, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and bright eyes, “that was really…wow.”

Steve felt the first genuine smile he could remember in weeks slowly spreading across his lips, “yeah,” he agreed fervently.

“I cannot _believe_ that _this_ is what I have been missing for all these months.” She went on almost conversationally, but their hips were still pressed flush together and her hands were tracing exploratory lines up his spine. It was at the same time so similar to how things had used to be between them, and so incredibly different, “You probably should have just done that a long time ago,” she paused with a tilt to her head, “You know, not when we were about to be killed by robots.”

He grinned as he slid one hand down her back to rest at her hip, “I’ll keep that in mind.” And then he paused, looking at her searchingly. “Just…Darcy, don’t be pretty sure. If we’re going to…I just…how sure are you?”

She met his gaze with an easy smile. “Steve-o, I was just trying to play it cool. I am really, _really_ sure.”

He could feel his answering grin splitting his face as he willed her to understand how _much_ he meant his words. “I love you too, you know.”

“I don’t know that I’ll ever understand why,” she said with a brilliant smile, “I’m kind of a pain.”

“I’ll admit that you didn’t exactly make it easy,” he said, but he gave her hip a reassuring squeeze, “but I can understand that you had some things to work through, and I’m just…god, I am so glad that you’re here right now.” He rested his forehead against hers, rubbing absent circles against her neck with his thumb.

“You know,” Darcy said dreamily, “we are really going about this all backwards. I don’t think we’re supposed to say thing like ‘I love you’ before we’ve even gone out on a proper date.”

Steve had to laugh, pulling back to look at her, “you and your rules,” he said brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ears, “no dating in the gym, no dating soldiers,” he paused, looking at her questioningly, “is the third date rule a real thing?” it was so much easier now that he could just _ask_ about all the modern things he didn’t really get.

“The third date rule is a thing,” Darcy confirmed, her lips twitching in amusement, “but apparently I live to break the rules. Besides,” her grin was positively wicked and he thought helplessly to himself that he was probably in _big_ trouble, “Captain America _is_ on my laminated list.” She slid a hand down his back distinctly south of his waistline, and he remembered their conversation before about his…assets, while he could feel his neck start to flush. 

Well, turnabout was fair play. He took immense satisfaction in her little squeak of surprise as he gripped her firmly under her rear with one hand, lifting her off her feet as he held her close with his other hand splayed across her back, pressing her against him as he found her mouth again.

He let out a little groan as she wrapped her legs around his waist, which pressed the juncture of her thighs tightly against his growing erection. She tilted her pelvis into him tentatively, almost experimentally, and he dragged his mouth off of hers with a gasp.

“Darce,” he fairly growled in her ear, “you keep doing that and rules _are_ going to be broken,” he had meant it to slow things down, but Darcy, as he probably should have predicted, took it as a challenge.

“What did I _just_ say about rules Rogers,” she pulled his earlobe between her teeth.

+

+

Darcy wasn’t exactly sure how they had progressed so quickly from talking about their _feelings_ to Steve shivering as she bit his earlobe and letting her push them overbalance to fall back against the couch.

She wasn’t going to complain though, because while they had _definitely_ never done anything like this before, it felt fun and easy and _comfortable_ in the same way that she had used to feel when they ran around in the park or sat around watching zombie movies.

She hadn’t realised how much she had missed having that feeling with Steve until she got it back, and she was _not_ going to give it up in a hurry. There was an easy release to the way they fit so well together again, even if it had taken her far too long to find her way back.

“So,” Steve sounded like he was trying to maintain a casual tone as he looked up at her, lips kiss swollen and face flushed, as she straddled his waist, firmly pressed against his obvious arousal, “If we’re breaking rules, does that mean, as Captain America, I get to be team leader in the zombie apocalypse?”

She leaned forward with a smirk to press a line of kisses down his neck with just a _hint_ of a bite at his collar bone; well, it wasn’t like Steve was going to bruise easy anyways.

“No way,” she said, ever so subtly rocking her hips just to hear him try to hide his groan, “I obviously can’t compete with you for muscle, so I get to be the brains.”

“Fine,” he agreed, catching her hips in his hands. She was momentarily stunned by the way his hands swallowed up her frame, which is probably why he got away with a swift movement that ended with her pinned under him on the couch, “what about that whole ‘getting down on your knees for America’ thing then?”

“Steve!” she exclaimed, blushing at the memory, “no fair! I never would have said that if I had known it was _you_.”

“Well that would have been a shame,” and somehow with the sincerity in his eyes, and the way he was looking at her, and all the things that made him Steve, it wasn’t as filthy as it should have been when he said, “I have spent a _lot_ of time thinking about it.”

It was filthy enough, though, that her mouth dropped open in surprise and she could feel a rush of heat like lightening at her centre. “Steve Rogers,” she intoned incredulously, “you made a dirty joke, and you didn’t even stutter!”

He smiled at her, “pretty sure I could do just about anything for you Darce,” he traced across the line of her collar bone with his thumb, suddenly serious. “You know, don’t you, that I mean this to be….that I’m _in_ this…I wouldn’t just jump into…”

Steve Rogers who could make a joke about Captain America and blow jobs, but couldn’t get out a sentence about how he was committed. She smiled, probably incredibly sappily.

“I know.” She reached up to place her hand alongside his face, “Me too.”

“Yeah?” it was only half a question.

“Yeah.”

He kissed her then, slow and soft, full of promise. When he pulled back again, she felt a bit unfocused. Being the centre of all of Steve Roger’s concentration could get really addictive. She didn’t really mind the thought.

He was pushing back from her though, and she frowned, catching his arms.

“I should…” he started to explain, “I don’t want to presume…”

She started to roll her eyes, but then had a thought, “Steve, have you ever….?” I mean, he _was_ from a different era …

“Oh!” he grinned as he understood what she was asking, “It’s a fair question, but yeah, I have. It’s not that, it’s just…well, I wouldn’t ever want you to think that you had to…that this was just about, well, _this_.” He gave her shoulder a little squeeze to emphasise his point. And she had to smile.

“That’s sweet Steve, it really is. And I appreciate it. But if this had just been about sex, we probably would have fucked months ago and long since got over it, and frankly, if you don’t take me to bed in the next 15 seconds I might actually have to do violence.”

“Oh thank _fuck_.” Steve let out in a huff and hauled her bodily off the couch in one smooth motion. She gladly wrapped her legs back around his waist, biting and pulling and licking at his mouth as he stumbled to his bedroom.

+

+

Sex with Darcy, it turned out, was a lot like pretty much everything he did with Darcy. It was _fun_. He didn’t ever remember having quite this much fun with a woman before. Of course, while he had told Darcy the truth, he hadn’t exactly had a _lot_ of experience. But still, the way she pushed him down onto the bed and pulled her t-shirt over her head didn’t stun him the way similar acts had in the past, it spurred him to action.

When he finally had her laid out on his sheets, his fumblings with the catch on her bra didn’t take away from anything, she just laughed and distracted him by working her fingers up his chest, pushing his shirt along with it.

“Dammit,” he finally exclaimed in amused exasperation, “you are _not_ helping.”

“Sorry,” she said, looking up at her with a grin that didn’t look sorry at all. “Fair is fair though,” she tugged upwards at his shirt, and he rolled his eyes at her but sat back and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside.

“Happy?” he asked flippantly. It sometimes made him uncomfortable the way people, the way women, looked at him now. But he didn’t mind at all the way Darcy’s cheeks flushed as she looked up at him.

“Very,” she reached up to splay a hand against his abdominals.

“Uh uh,” he grabbed her wrist, “you promised.” He didn‘t quite understand it, the way his comfortable easiness with Darcy had come back so quickly, had translated so easily to _this_ , which he had sort of always thought was supposed to be serious and all about gentleness and _emotions_. And it wasn’t like it wasn’t about emotions, not at all, but he was starting to really get what Bucky had always gone on about. Because this was pretty incredible. He didn’t think he was the sort who could find it with any number of women the way Bucky had, but he was pretty content with the idea of doing it _a lot_ with just one woman.

Specifically, the woman who had just unhooked her bra and tossed it across the room. Steve felt an immediate and distinct drop in his IQ. He had known, intellectually, that Darcy had incredible breasts, but knowing that and feeling the weight of them in his hands, watching her nipples pebble as he brushed them with his thumbs, were two different things.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured as he bent to take one rosy peak into his mouth, his fingers gently rolling the other as Darcy gasped and arched up towards him.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she gasped breathlessly as her hands worked their way under his belt.

He grinned around her breast, flexing under her hands which had the added benefit of pushing his erection against her core. “Still think that Captain America has a better ass?” he managed to get out as he worked his way, nipping and sucking damply up her neck. Because now, on the other side of all the misunderstandings and hurt, that had really been pretty hilarious.

“Well,” she paused, gasping as he thrust against her again, “the suit _does_ do more for you than any pair of slacks ever could.”

“You’re _impossible_ ” he grumbled good naturedly, working one hand down the smooth expanse of her belly towards her jeans.

“Yeah, I really am,” she said unrepentantly, but she was gratifyingly speechless when he flicked the button of her jeans open and slid his hand down to cup her through her panties. On the other hand, he wasn’t exactly feeling eloquent when he found that he could feel her damp heat, soaked right through the thin cotton, against his hand.

“Darcy,” he finally groaned, “god, I want you so bad.”

“I’m _yours_ ” she whispered, pressing up against his hand, and he just couldn’t take it slow anymore, he crashed his mouth to hers frantically, swallowing her amused and frustrated sounds as she tried to help him shimmy out of her jeans. And then her hands were at his waist, fumbling with his belt until she finally tugged it open.

He froze as her hands brushed over his cock, tenting his briefs as she pushed his pants over his hips.

“Come _on_ Steve,” she said impatiently, and shoved his pants the rest of the way off.

When he lay back down against her, there was only thin cotton between them, and he could feel how well they fit together, his pelvis sitting in the low dip between her hips, their movement stilled as he could feel the heat radiating off of her.

“Point of no return, Steve-o,” she said with a bit of false bravado, and he could understand it. There was no going back over the line they were about to cross. But he had to grin at the absurdity of the trace of nervousness in her face, as if they hadn’t crossed lines that were ultimately far more important already, as if they could ever take any of this back, as if he would ever _want_ to.

“I don’t really ever plan on going back,” he said. And then he had a thought. He grinned and pressed her back against the pillows with his hand. “I just wanna try something,” he said in answer to her questioning look. He didn’t dare give her the time to make a snappy come back and instead pulled himself down the bed until he knelt between her thighs.

“Steve…” she started, but then he put his mouth over her and breathed hot against her through her panties. She let out a low noise that Steve definitely wanted to hear again. He hooked his fingers through her waistband and looked up at her questioningly, pleased to see her flushed and breathless as she nodded at him.

He placed the flat of his tongue against her clit, tasted the sharp tang of her in his mouth, and had to force himself to keep from pressing into the mattress, just to relieve the aching pressure building in his cock. Instead, he listened carefully to the sounds she was making, when she got louder, what made her hips buck under his mouth. He had been watching the way her body moved for so long, cataloguing the ways her muscles pulled and stretched, when she was keyed in and tight, or when she was tired and loose limbed, that it didn’t take long before he wrapped his hands around her hips firmly, holding her in place while he struck with precise motions of his tongue. Her thighs shook, her hips lifted off the bed and then she was coming apart in front of him, his name like a litany on her lips.

When she finally threaded her hands into his hair and pulled him up to kiss him, he was jerky and uncoordinated with need.

“Darce,” he said after a moment, “are you…I need to…”

“Mmmmph,” she made a satisfied and yet impatient noise, “you talk too much,” she pressed up against his shoulder with surprising force until she had pushed him onto his back, straddling him. She reached down to shove his briefs off and then her hand was wrapped around him.

He let his head fall back to the pillow with a groan as her fingers moved up and down his length, a bit tentatively at first, but then with more certainty as he thrust up against her hand, unable and unwilling to stop himself. He desperately cast around for something to distract him, to stop this from ending too soon. God, he wanted her right here forever.

“Steve?” he looked up to find Darcy looking at him with an amused grin. It wasn’t exactly the distraction he was looking for, as her breasts hung full and round over his chest where she was propped on one arm, and he could see his erect cock between her fingers. “You reciting baseball stats in your head?”

He let out a strained laugh, “god, baseball stats, yeah that’s a good idea.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve got a better one,” she said with a wicked grin, and then she guided herself over him and sunk down on him inch by inch.

She gasped once she finally settled, their hips locked, his whole aching length clutched in her wet heat.

“ _Fuck,_ ” she gasped once, and Steve grasped her hips tightly, closing his eyes and willing himself not to move.

“Are you okay?” he gasped, feeling her walls clench and adjust around him.

“ _Yeah_ ,” she groaned, “yeah, wow. Yeah.”

He kind of liked incoherent Darcy. He kind of liked her a lot.

Carefully he lifted her hips up and then let her sink down again, a low noise starting at the back of his throat. Darcy picked up the rhythm he had set, her head tossed back, thighs tight around him as she thrust again and again to meet him, a low keening noise building and building as his movements grew faster and more frantic.

He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, the way she looked, flushed and frantic, overtop of him, and the way she _felt._ So he rolled them over pulling her hips away from the bed with one arm, the other braced by her head increasing his angle bit by bit until her back was arched in a smooth line and he hit something inside her that made her fairly scream his name as her fingers clawed at his back.

“Fuck Darce, I’m gonna….” He managed to gasp out as her inner walls tightened around him and he grew inevitably closer to his release.

Her hand was against his face, tilting it to meet hers as she crushed her mouth against his. “I wanna make you come,” she whispered low and sweet and dirty in his ear, and Steve was _gone_.

He hauled back onto his knees, pulling her with him, his grip on her hips bruisingly tight as he thrust into her again and again, his rhythm frantic and broken. He slipped one hand around far enough to thumb her clit once, twice, three times and then she was fluttering and clenching around him, crying out his name as his hips stuttered and shook and he buried himself in her, twitching as he emptied himself inside her.

He collapsed against her after a moment, feeling her heart beating just as fast as his under his chest.

“So,” said Darcy after a little while, “that was awesome.” She sounded a bit dazed. He was going to take full credit for that. Later, when he could move again.

“Mmmpphh,” he made a noise of assent against her breast.

He felt more than heard her shake with laughter underneath him.

“I was kind of worried that it would be weird, you know?” her fingers were idly running over his neck, damp with sweat. It felt really nice.

“Hmmm?” was all he managed in response, although he did manage to tilt his head up to look at her.

“Getting naked, crossing the platonic line, or whatever,” she clarified.

“You’re saying I was weird to get naked with?” he was half concerned that she _was_ feeling weird about it for a moment, but even though he might be a bit out of practice from the last little while, he was pretty sure he could still figure out when she was teasing him.

She laughed again, a slow rolling motion under his cheek, “No, I’m saying it felt…good. Normal.”

Steve smiled against her skin, “So,” he said slowly, “you’re saying that I was _normal_ in bed?”

She pushed lightly against his shoulder, “I’m saying you’re a _jerk_ in bed, right now,” and god how he had missed that tone of fond exasperation from her. “You are going to have to move in a bit though,” she went on reasonably, “because you’re also really heavy.”

He made a dissatisfied noise, because apparently that was all he could manage at the moment. He might be broken. He didn’t really care. But he flopped over into his back anyways, because she really was pretty tiny, and he really wasn’t anymore.

“Hey Steve?” Darcy sounded kind of sleepily amused as she rested her chin on his shoulder to look at him. He really liked the way she looked right now, her hair tousled, cheeks pink, and lips swollen.

“Hey beautiful,” he answered groggily. It was probably pretty corny, but Darcy already knew he was corny, and she liked him anyways. She _loved_ him. He grinned what was probably a very silly grin.

“Do you want me to stay? Or should I….”

Steve made a disbelieving tone of protest at the thought of her moving anywhere out of his reach. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he mumbled, gathering her against his chest with one arm. “Sleep,” he commanded gently.

“Yes Captain,” her tone was mocking, but he could feel her smile against his chest as he drifted off.

+

+

The sun was coming up when he was woken by Darcy stirring next to him. It was no wonder really, as he was sprawled out with a leg hooked over hers and his arm thrown about her middle. He tightened his grip unrepentantly.

“Don’t” he muttered sleepily. “Stay.”

“Steeeeeeve,” Darcy whined blearily, “I have to peeeeeee.”

A chuckle rumbled its way through his chest and he blinked up at her. “Fine,” he said in a disgruntled tone, but he couldn’t hide his smile as he moved to let her up. She leaned over and pressed a kiss against his forehead with a soft smile of her own.

It took a few more minutes before he was really fully conscious, and that may have only been because of the smell of bacon drifting in from the kitchen. He swung his feet to the floor and pulled on a pair of sweatpants lying over the nearby chair.

When he stumbled into the kitchen Darcy was standing in front of the stove, her hair swept up in a messy knot and wearing nothing but one of his button down shirts, stolen from his closet. It was so close to all the times he had dreamed about having her here, all the times he had imagined this, that he couldn’t help sweeping her up into his arms and planting a kiss on her lips, morning breath and all.

When he finally set her down, she looked up at him with an amused grin.

“What’s that look for?” she said, jabbing him with the handle of a spatula.

“I’m just really goddamn happy.” He couldn’t help but saying it.

“You know,” she said causally flipping the bacon in the pan, “I wonder what the public would think if they knew how much Captain America actually swears.”

He grinned, pressing a kiss against the back of her neck, just because he could now, and moving to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“For the record,” she said after a moment, “I am too.”

“Hmmm?” he made a questioning noise.

“Happy, I mean.”  She paused for a minute. “Although Sal and Gus are going to have a _field_ day once they find out.”

And that was it really, one of those moments where the past stops defining the future and the rest of life starts.

Steve just smiled down into his mug of coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE thank you to everyone who read, left kudos, and / or commented! Every single bit of feedback gives me such energy to keep creating stuff! You all rock!

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to posh_brit_guys_are_hot over on tumblr for beta-ing! This one has been a bit of an uphill battle to get down on paper, so any encouragement is much appreciated!


End file.
